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doomhands-jr · 6 months ago

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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 3

Noah Sebastian X Reader

Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

Wheeeeeeee!

________

“Heavenly father,” Isaac began. “We ask that you bless this practice session. Allow us to spread your love and light through our music and give us the opportunity to reach the souls that need to hear it. Amen.”

“Amen,” the rest of you repeated.

“Alright, friends. What songs do we want to play this week?”

“I’ve been leaning towards How He Loves Us,” said Darian.

“Okay. I’ll need to refresh myself on the chords,” said Isaac. “Everyone on board?”

You nodded along with the others, but as they talked over the song list, you found yourself losing focus. Your eyes drifted over to the front of the stage, where you and Noah had sat on Saturday.

You were always so sure that if presented with temptation, you would be able to resist. It had never once entered your mind that there would be a situation in which your resolve would be tested.

But there on those steps, with Noah looking down over you, you knew you would have let your body take over and do whatever it wanted. For the first time in your life, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself with someone—and yet, you weren’t convinced it was a bad thing.

Okay, were you ready to lose your virginity to him? No. That was a big step to take, considering you’d only ever had one kiss in your life, but you couldn’t deny that you were eager to explore your sexuality more, and that had never been something you were willing to do outside of marriage.

Noah’s logic had you questioning the rules that had been instilled in you. He seemed to think that the rules, particularly those surrounding sex, were not worth following. He had such a confidence about it that you were dying to question where he got it from and what his reasoning behind it was.

Something tugged in the back of your mind, though. Isaac had cautioned you about spending time with him, and how he could lead you down a bad path. You felt yourself straying from what you had always believed, but were they right? Were you being led into a life of sin?

Or was it more complicated than that?

“Okay, everyone clear on the set list for this week?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t clear, but you’d pick it up easily enough. You could always ask Ava if you needed help.

“Hey, can I talk to you a minute?”

It was Isaac. He was closer than you remembered him being. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could get your help with something?”

“Okay?” you said, waiting for him to continue.

“So I want to put together a Christmas concert. I could use your voice. And your help with setting it up if you’re down for it.”

“Halloween isn’t even over,” you said.

“These things take time to arrange. It’s better if we get a head start.” He flashed a smile at you and rocked back on his heels, visibly eager for you to agree.

“What all would I need to do?” you asked.

“Really, I just need you to sing the soprano harmonies. And to spread the word about it. Maybe hang some fliers or something. See if any of the women in your dorm want to come. I’m thinking this could be a great outreach project if we maybe add an alter call or something at the end.”

You didn’t want to. You knew you didn’t want to, but you needed something to focus on that wasn’t Noah and the way he had you questioning everything about yourself.

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“Yess,” he hissed, already taking it as a begrudging agreement, instead of a consideration. “Promise you won’t regret it.”

“Uh-huh.”

The rest of the session was spent practicing the songs for the upcoming service. You wished you had the ability to stay focused, but all you could think about was the softness behind Noah’s eyes when he looked at you, and how eager you were for Saturday to arrive.

______

“Noah can’t come,” Nick said, walking up the concrete pathway that led to the church ground. “He got roped into working overtime at the factory. Won’t be off until 3.”

“Oh,” you said, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Sucks for him.”

“Not really. At least he’s getting paid,” he said. “Otherwise he’d have to be here, doing work for free.”

“Right,” you agreed. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So what’s on the menu for today?” he asked, sounding much more chipper than last week.

“Sorting donations. Our church is holding a drive to help families in need. We’re sorting clothes by size and gender—,”

“Gender is a construct,” he cut in.

“Okay, so by size and masculine vs. feminine then.”

"And what if it's gender-neutral?" he asked.

You sighed. "Use your judgement."

“Got it,” he said and punctuated it with a nod.

“And then if we get done with that, we’ll sort toys by age, and then food by type and expiration date.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“You shrugged. We’ll just do as much as we have time for.”

You led him down into the basement of the worship center, where all the donation boxes were stored.

“Start with that box. We’ll start sorting it based on gen—er, feminine verses masculine first. Then we’ll do children’s versus adults, and after that, go by size. Feminine clothes go there, masculine over there, you said, pointing to piles on two different tables.

“Sounds good,” he said, picking up a box and getting to work. You got back to work sifting through the box you’d been working on before he had arrived, picking up the clothes, judging which pile they belonged in and whether they were in good enough condition to rehome.

“Make sure you check for things like stains and tears. We don’t want to be sending people damaged things.”

“Got it,” he said.

Nick paused to remove his black hoodie, and you allowed yourself to sneak a glance over at him while he worked. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing tattoos on his arms, though not nearly as many as Noah. He was more muscular than you realized, biceps flexing and relaxing as he folded the clothes.

“I see you staring,” he said and you looked up at him to find him smirking at you.

“I was looking at your tattoos.”

“Sure you were,” he said. “Go ahead and stare. I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you said, looking away from him and back down to the pile of clothes you were sorting.

“And here I was thinking I’d finally caught the Virgin Mary in an act of lust.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

He slid out from behind the table he was working at and stood next to you, picking up a shirt from the pile in front of you and checking the tag.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just thought you looked like you could use some help over here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

The pair of you worked together in tense silence. You had to admit, the work did go much faster when he was helping. Nick worked hard and rhythmically, settling into a pace that easily bested yours. Every so often, his arm would brush up against yours, and you couldn’t figure out if it was on purpose.

“My god, who donated this?!” he exclaimed after a while. You looked over and he was holding a pair of bright yellow children’s pants with a brown stain across the back, his face scandalized.

You snorted loudly. Nick caught it and his face lit up with his own laughter, and the two of you devolved into a fit of giggles.

“We should probably toss that one,” you said after regaining your composure and pointed to the trash can in the corner. He agreed, balling the garment up and tossing it into the trash, easily sinking it into the basket even though it was across the room.

“Do you think the rest are contaminated?” he asked.

You shook your head. “The organizers washed all of these in big industrial washers. It’s just a stain. Still gross though.”

“Still gross,” he agreed.

“Alright, since we’re almost done with this box, I’m gonna grab the next one,” you said, but before you could even try to lift it, Nick had stepped in front of you, hoisting it easily up onto the table with no effort. Impressive, considering you’d been struggling to even lift the boxes of clothing yourself.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem. Hey, so you know how I always say you could use more fun.”

You paused folding the shirt in your hands and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look. You know it’s true.”

You maintained your cool expression.

“Well, we’re doing a Halloween gig tonight at Jolly’s. You should come.”

You considered it. If the band was playing, that meant Noah would be there, and you’d get to see what he’s like outside of community service. It sounded tempting, but—

“I already committed to handing out candy to trick-or-treaters with the worship team.”

Nick let out a sound of annoyance. “Are you always doing church stuff?”

You laughed. “Kind of.”

“Well, what time does it go until?” he asked.

“I think trick-or-treat ends at 8:30.”

“Perfect,” he said. “The party doesn’t even start until after 9:00.”

You considered for a moment, not sure if it would be a good idea.

“I can practically hear you talking yourself out of it.”

“It’s just…,” you began.

“You’re worried you’ll get pulled into a life of sin?” he finished. “Come on. It’s one party. You don’t even have to drink.”

You thought about it. It could be interesting to see the band perform. Get an idea of the kind of music Noah’s into.

“Can I bring a friend?” you asked.

He chuckled, “sure, if it’ll get you to come.”

“Okay. Where should I go?”

Nick smiled. “Where’s your dorm? I can pick you and your friend up there at 9:00 and we’ll head over together.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, and wear a costume.”

_______

“No way! Really?!” Ava half-shouted.

“Don’t go crazy. I’m bringing you to be my accountability partner,” you said. “Make sure I don’t make any bad decisions while I’m there.”

“What bad decisions would you even make?” she said, “You’re the most responsible out of all of us.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’ve never been to this kind of party before, so I don’t know what to expect.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t be such a worrier.”

She had a point. You doubted you were going to do anything. But then again, you had experienced your first real temptation only a week ago, and had Nick not walked in, you weren’t one hundred percent positive you would have resisted.

Only time would tell.

_________

Trick-or-treating went smoothly. You and the rest of the worship band got dressed up in your costumes and handed out candy from the steps leading up to the church. Other organizers in your congregation had set up a mini obstacle course for the children, and a table full of apple cider and glazed donuts stood beside it, with many members of the church gathered around it.

These were the kinds of events you loved helping out at. There was such a sense of community that made you feel like you were part of something greater than yourself. Seeing the joy on everyone’s faces made putting up with the more annoying tasks well worth it.

Ava dressed as a medieval princess in a flowing white and pink gown. Isaac went as a pirate. Darian and Josh wore matching “Thing 1” and “Thing 2” costumes. You were dressed as your favorite historical president, but with a twist. The kids loved your costumes, but their own costumes were just as creative.

Part of the event that the church put on involved a costume contest, where the winner would receive a gift certificate for free pizza, soda, and dessert at the local pizza restaurant. It wasn’t much, but the kids had gone all out for it.

You and the worship band were in charge of judging the costumes, and after much deliberation between the robot (your choice) and the wolverine (Isaac’s choice), the robot eventually won out.

“It had blinking LEDs and functioning buttons with sound effects!” you said, when Isaac was salty about the outcome.

“The kid had home-made retractable claws! Do you know how much engineering that takes?”

“Sorry. The results were fair.”

“Whatever. What are you guys doing after this? Want to go bowling?”

“Actually, we already have plans,” Ava said.

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“We were invited to watch a local band.”

“Oh nice. Where is it? I might want to stop by.”

“Oh, uh. I actually don’t know. Our friend is going to pick us up,” you said, growing nervous.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Which friend?”

You shifted, not knowing how to answer him.

“It’s the delinquents,” said Ava, unconcerned with the tension that had grown. “Calm down, we’ll be fine.”

Isaac looked at you as if you had told him you were going to a strip club. “That sounds like a really bad idea,” he said. “Are you sure about this? Do you want me to escort you?”

“Yes I’m sure. And no, we don’t need a chaperone. It’s just listening to a band.”

“Yeah,” said Isaac. “A secular band.”

“Isaac chill. She asked me to be her accountability partner. She’s covered. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have to get going.”

Ava grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you away. Isaac looked like he wanted to follow, but thought better of it and turned away.

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” she said when the two of you were out of earshot.

“Thanks. I owe you,” you said. “What’s his problem?”

“He doesn’t like them. He’s been talking to me about it. He believes they’re bad news, but I think he’s just jealous, to be honest. You’re no longer paying attention to him the way you used to and he knows it.”

“What a crybaby,” you said.

“I mean, can you blame him? You spent the last several years at his beck and call, and now suddenly you dip.”

“That’s not exactly fair,” you said. “You were the same way with him.”

“Yeah, well, maybe both of us are to blame.”

“You might be right.”

You and Ava reached your dorm, where Ava stripped off the overskirt of her dress, revealing a much shorter version of her costume, complete with knee socks and heels.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed.

“I told you I wanted to experience life on the other side,” she said. “This is my chance. Don’t judge me.”

“Honestly, I’m more impressed than anything. But I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little much for your first party? Like, should you scope it out first before taking a risk like that?”

Ava shrugged. “I’m tired of the same boring things every day. I could use a little risk-taking.”

You bit back your comments, knowing that you weren’t going to change her mind. She was headstrong, which you loved about her, but it also worried you at times.

“Just don’t get too carried away, okay?” you said.

“I’m going to have at least one drink while I’m there.”

“You’re supposed to be my accountability partner!”

“I can still hold you accountable. It’s just one drink.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, acknowledging to yourself that it may have been a mistake to bring her.

“Please just don’t make me babysit you the whole time. I want to enjoy myself.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my wits about me. I’ll have one drink. We’ll listen to the music, maybe do a little dancing. Maybe I’ll have my first kiss, and then we’ll be home by midnight.”

You groaned. “Drinking and kissing? That’s a lot to pack into one night.”

“It’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Don’t worry about me. You just focus on enjoying yourself, okay? This is your first real party. You should be excited for you! Not worried for me.”

As if on cue, there was a knock on your door. You looked at the clock on your phone and it read 8:57.

“He’s early for once.”

You opened the door to reveal Nick’s bare chest with the image of an eagle holding a fish inked onto it. A tiny purple vest barely covered his shoulders. “Aladdin?” you asked.

“At your service,” he said, lifting the fez he wore up in salute.

“Nice,” you commented. “Nick, this is Ava.”

“Princess Ava,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “I like your costume.”

Ava burst into a fit of giggles at the flattery. “Yours too.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” you said to Nick, already knowing what he was thinking. You saw his eyes scan up and down Ava’s legs.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked. “A sexy founding father?”

“Baberaham Lincoln,” you clarified, fiddling with the fake beard to ensure its placement.

He scanned you up and down. “I guess I see it,” he said slowly. “But to truly pass as a babe-ified version of Lincoln, I think you need to be a little sexier.”

“I wore red lipstick,” you defended.

“You could stand to undo a few buttons on your shirt. Or tie it up to make a crop top,” Ava suggested.

“I’m good,” you said.

Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on.”

You and Ava followed him out the door and began your walk towards town. Jolly’s house was supposedly a mile or so away from campus. The wind carried a chill, but Ava and Nick seemed to not notice, too enraptured in conversation. They were obviously flirting, and you’d have to remember to warn Ava about him. And threaten Nick.

The walk was quicker than you expected, and you vaguely recognized the part of town Jolly lived in. The house was light blue with black shutters. It spanned two floors, but wasn’t in great shape. Partygoers spilled out onto the front porch and lawn, all dressed in a variety of costumes. You noticed most were homemade, and you appreciated that, but they also showed much more skin than you were used to seeing and you felt overdressed. You unbuttoned one button at the top of your blouse.

“So ladies,” Nick said, gesturing to the crowd. “This is a party. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I’ll take a drink,” said Ava.

Nick grinned. “Excellent. What would you like?”

“What do they have?” she asked.

“Follow me to the kitchen and I’ll show you.” Nick and Ava made their way into the crowd, while you hung back a few paces, wanting to get your bearings before immersing yourself into the sea of people. You scanned the strangers, looking for Noah, but came up empty.

So this was a party. It looked like people were having fun. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, but it was very crowded and noisy. You wondered if alcohol was the key to enjoying this. Or perhaps knowing more people. Maybe you just didn’t know anyone so it was hard for you to keep from feeling out of place.

You walked up the steps and across the porch, weaving in and out among partygoers and noticing the various costumes. Superheroes, characters from popular movies and comic book series. A lot of people dressed as celebrities, and then more generic costumes like firefighter and nurse. Several girls walked around in black bodysuits with cat ears and whiskers painted on their faces. You wondered if they all knew each other.

Stepping into the house, you were met with a big cloud of cigarette smoke. It wafted into the air and permeated throughout the entire house. There was another smell too that you didn’t recognize, but you guessed was marijuana.

The tile floor was sticky, you noticed. Your shoes peeled away from the ground with each step and you could almost feel the film they were collecting. It was also hot and humid inside the house, with all the bodies that were crammed in.

Electric neon lights flashed all around in the living room, where several people gathered. It looked like that was where people went to dance. In the kitchen, Ava and Nick leaned up against the counter while Nick poured some red liquid from a large Hawaiian Punch container labeled “jungle juice.” He handed it to Ava and she smiled up at him. His hand went to rest around her waist and she blushed. You’d have to intervene eventually, but for now, you wanted to let Ava have her fun.

You took a swig of water out of the bottle you’d tucked into the inside pocket of your blazer, which was quickly growing too warm. You couldn’t abandon it though, or else nobody would know what you were dressed as—not that it mattered much. Everyone was focused on their own thing, and nobody was paying attention to you.

You found yourself a corner of the living room to stand in and you leaned against the walls, watching the guests as they danced. Some were dancing on each other. Some were making out, while others danced with abandon, twirling their arms above their heads and jumping up and down. It reminded you of summer camp, when you’d do the same thing. Dance with reckless abandon to the worship music—although the context of this dancing was wildly different.

You missed being a kid and getting to participate in all the different activities in the church. Now that you were an adult, you’d taken on more of an organizer and leadership role, overseeing all of these activities. You liked the work, but had much more fun when you were a kid, before all the responsibility kicked in.

A tall figure coming down the stairs caught your eye and you recognized him immediately. He hadn’t seen you yet, and you were perfectly content to watch him from afar.

Noah was dressed in all black. He had switched out his hoodie for a tank top, which displayed the full scope of his tattoos. He wore his hair tied back, but on his head sat a pair of shiny, dark black horns. He held a glass beer bottle in one hand and sipped casually from it.

As he made his way through the crowd, it soon became clear he was one of the more popular guests. Several people went out of their way to greet him by offering high-fives, fist bumps, or by tapping their drinks to his. A couple women were more affectionate—they greeted him by throwing their arms around his neck and wrapping him in a hug, and it was hard to admit your own jealousy to yourself. Noah could have female friends, and it wasn’t a betrayal of whatever small connection the two of you had established. Even still, it was uncomfortable to watch.

You could see the moment he spotted Nick, as he immediately made his way over to them. You were relieved to see he greeted him with more enthusiasm than anyone else. Nick introduced Ava, who shook Noah’s hand. You could see on her face that while she was just as taken aback by the abundance of tattoos as you were originally, she was visibly interested in learning who this newcomer was.

Ava said something else to Noah, who smiled and laughed, and then Nick chimed in, but you couldn’t hear any specifics. In response, Noah perked up and turned to scan the room. Nick leaned toward his friend to mention something else, pointing in your direction, and when Noah finally spotted you, he nodded and started in your direction.

That was your cue to come out of your little secluded corner. Locking eyes with him, you noticed he wore a pair of contacts that completely blacked out his eyes and made him look like a demon, which you supposed was the intent. Despite that, you were warmed by his smile.

When he reached you, he greeted you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and you found yourself wishing you had worn something sleeveless so you could feel the full effect of his touch.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Noah asked, curious but pleased. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Baberaham Lincoln!” you said. “I thought more people would get that.”

Noah paused, scanned you up and down, and then doubled over in laughter.

“Thank you,” he said, and surprised you by wrapping you up in a warm hug and pressing you into his chest. “You made my night.”

Noah was very sweaty, and you could smell the slight sourness of body odor on him beneath the patchouli scent, but that didn’t detract from how much you enjoyed the embrace.

“Are you dressed as a demon?” you asked when he finally pulled away.

“Something like that. I didn’t put much thought into it. Just wanted to look scary.”

“Well, it did the trick,” you said. “Your eyes are kind of freaking me out.”

He smiled down at you in response and despite the unsettling costume, you felt your affection for him grow.

“You don’t mind if I drink, do you?” he asked.

“I’m not here to stop you from having any fun. I’m on your turf now.” You had to lean towards him to be heard over the sound of the music and the crowd.

“I’m really surprised you came,” he confessed. “It doesn’t seem like your normal scene, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you said. Shrouded in his presence, you began to understand the appeal of these parties.

“Fair warning though,” he said, leaning down next to your face so you could hear him. “You probably aren’t going to like our music. It’s not exactly your style.” You were met with the slight pressure of his palm on your lower back, and you wondered if the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, reaching into your pockets and pulling out two foam pieces. “I brought earplugs just in case.”

He grinned, dark contacts not taking away from his genuine delight. “That’s my girl.” Something erupted in your stomach at the nickname. “Hey, come here. I want to introduce you to the band.” He led you by the hand through the party and back out onto the front porch.

“This is Ruffilo and Jolly,” he said, introducing you to two other heavily-tattooed and long-haired men. “You already met Folio, our drummer. Ruffilo plays bass and Jolly pays guitar. His real name is Joakim, but we all call him Jolly.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand to each of them to shake.

“This is that girl I was talking about who oversees the community service.”

“Virgin Mary!” Jolly exclaimed in recognition.

Your face fell and you looked up at Noah sourly.

“Shit,” he said. “That probably wasn’t cool, was it?” he asked.

“No, not really,” you said, stepping away from him.

“Sorry, okay guys. Just Mary. Not Virgin Mary.”

“Man, come on,” you whined, and Noah giggled to himself at his own joke. You realized you were stuck with the nickname, probably for as long as you and Noah would know each other.

“So people keep requesting we play Dethrone,” said Jolly. “I think we should.”

Noah’s eyes glanced over at you and his demeanor turned to hesitant. “No Dethrone,” he said. “I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“Okay, but you don’t get to make decisions for the whole band,” reasoned Ruffilo.

“I don’t know if my voice is up to it,” Noah said. “It’s a hard one to perform.”

Ruffilo sighed. “They’re not going to be happy about it.”

“Maybe next time,” said Noah. “When I remember to bring the Throat Coat.”

Jolly fixed Noah with a look of displeasure, but sighed and relented. “Fine, but don’t neglect your vocal exercises in the future. It’s our biggest crowd-pleaser.”

“Got it,” said Noah. “I won’t.”

Ruffilo pulled out what looked like a hand-wrapped cigarette which you recognized as a joint and lit it up. He took a deep inhale before passing it to Noah, who accepted and sucked back a long drag.

“You don’t mind if I do this, do you?” he intoned, keeping the air trapped in his lungs as he spoke before exhaling a few moments later.

“Not at all,” you said, though something was telling you it was time to take some space.

“Hey, I’m gonna go find Ava,” you said. “You guys have fun.”

“You good?” asked Noah, looking at you with sincerity.

You nodded. “Promise. I just want to check on her.”

“Okay,” he said, taking another drag. “We go on in a few minutes, but I’ll meet up with you after our set. Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you said, softening despite your discomfort.

You didn’t want to leave his side, but if you stayed, you knew you’d be uncomfortable with the situation and you’d already exposed yourself to enough unfamiliarity that night.

You made your way back into the kitchen, noting that Nick and Ava had moved. You scanned around the house and finally spotted them on the dance floor. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and they were pressed up close to each other. He whispered something into her ear and she threw her head back in laughter.

It was innocent enough, but you’d step in if you felt like you had to.

Wandering through the house, you searched for a quiet spot and a breath of fresh air. You spotted a back door down a short hallway and made a beeline for it, opening to find it a small back yard with a firepit and only a few people standing around it.

You made your way through the yard, past the fire pit and to the back edge where an old shed sat. You leaned against it, closing your eyes and breathing deep. The cool night air filled your lungs, along with the scent of burning wood from the fire.

You were reminded of nights like these spent at church camp during Vespers. Gathering around the campfire and signing along with whoever played the acoustic guitar. Some of the most transformative times of your life happened around those fires. You felt so connected to God. The Holy Spirit permeated through the air, vibrating with intensity and everyone there could feel it. In that moment, you knew that everyone around that fire, no matter where they came from, felt the exact same way you did.

Now, you felt disconnected from your surroundings in an all-consuming way. It was as if everyone else was riding an energetic frequency you couldn’t seem to find and didn’t know if you wanted to. Even Ava, your best friend, assimilated seamlessly into the party atmosphere.

You breathed deeply in and out through your nose and ran your fingertips along the paint that was flaking off the siding of the shed, which served to ground you in the way you needed. You knew you’d have to rejoin the party soon, but you were grateful for this private moment of solace.

As if on cue, the sound of guitars blasted through the back door, demanding your presence. You took out the ear plugs and stuffed them into your ears, the foam muffling the sound and softening the world around you, which had grown abrasive in the last hour or so. _____

The basement floor was damp and even stickier than the kitchen. It was also much more crowded than the upper floor had been now that the entire party was gathered into a single space.

The crowd looked on eagerly as the band set up and did their sound checks. The excitement was tangible and you had no idea Noah’s band had such a following.

“Check. Check,” Noah shouted into the microphone. “I need more in my monitor.” You looked to the back of the room where a small table was set up and someone was running sound.

The sound check took several minutes, but once all the levels were steady, Noah opened his mouth and let out one of the loudest and most demonic sounds you’d ever heard come from a person. You jumped out of your skin, feeling your arm hair stand on end.

Four clicks from Nick’s drumsticks and the entire band joined in, producing a volume even your ear plugs couldn’t compete with.

“Alright you motherfuckers,” Noah shouted. “We’re Bad Omens and we’ve come to steal your souls on this beautiful Hallow-fucking-ween.”

The crowd cheered. Many began jumping up and down in time with the music. The lights flashed from bright green to a deep red, and Noah began to sing.

“Dead on the inside!”

You never knew live music could be this loud or a crowd this energetic. You’d gone to a few Christian rock concerts, but they were nothing compared to what was happening in front of you.

As the band played through the first few verses of the opening song, the energy of the crowd steadily grew. By the time they hit the crescendo, it looked like a fight had broken out in the audience.

You were immediately put on guard, not sure why nobody else was reacting to it, including the band, when you overserved a few minutes longer and realized that the audience seemed to be…enjoying themselves. It wasn’t a fist fight, you noted. It looked like a bunch of people pushing each other around and flailing their bodies into each other.

Moshing. They were moshing. You remember hearing about it from Isaac, who was into more of the heavier music like The Devil Wears Prada. He said they headlined a Christian music festival he went to over the summer and mentioned that he’d been in a mosh pit, describing what it had been like in vivid detail.

Looking at the audience now, you couldn’t ever imagine someone like Isaac holding their own in a crowd like this.

The next several songs went on like that. The energy of the crowd never died down, and Noah alternated between screaming and singing. You had no idea how his throat could even handle making those noises without bleeding halfway through the first song. You’d have to ask him about that later.

All-in-all, he was right. It definitely wasn’t your preferred style of music, but you could appreciate the passion behind it. Noah’s singing voice was actually beautiful. He hit high notes you’d never heard a man hit before, and he did it with ease. You wished he would stick to that type of singing, but you supposed there had to be an appeal to the screaming, or else the crowd wouldn’t be so lively.

Despite it not being your style, you had fun watching the band perform. Noah’s passion was obvious. He threw his entire body into his performance, letting the music reverberate from deep inside him, and you were content to watch him in his natural habitat.

The juxtaposition was wild. He was normally so closed off and reserved. Here, he was uninhibited. It was like he belonged on a stage and in front of a microphone, and you found yourself feeling happy that he found this outlet for himself.

When the band played their final note, Noah thanked the crowd for coming out and told them all where they could purchase merch and download music.

“Dethrone!” someone shouted from the audience.

“Not tonight, guys. That one’s hard on my throat,” he said.

“Dethrone!” more people shouted. The crowd began to chant over and over again.

“I mean, it’s Halloween. We kind of have to play it,” the man you’d met earlier—Ruffilo—said into the mic.

“Dethrone! Dethrone! Dethrone!” the crowd chanted, and you wondered what kind of song it must be to cause the crowd to react so strongly.

Noah hesitated, looking very torn. He scanned the crowd for a few moments before locking eyes with you and his face held a look of what you could only describe as apology. He held eye contact with you for several minutes, and then he sighed and turned back to the crowd.

“Alright all you fucking cowards, this one’s called Dethrone, and I want to see you tear this fucking place to the ground.”

The guitar came in with a fast and heavy riff for a few bars before the bass and drum joined them. The lights flashed on and off and Noah let out a deep, guttural growl that lasted several bars.

The crowd went absolutely feral. The entire audience began thrashing around and pushing up against one another. Even at the back of the room, you got shoved left and right.

Throughout the noise of the crowd and the screaming you could only make out bits and pieces of the lyrics.

“…when I was killed and born again.”

“If he’s home I’ve got a message from below. Fuck you.”

“…Take me to the pearly gates, so I can look you in the eye when I spit in your face.”

The moment you realized what the song was about, you reached your breaking point. You had to get out of there. You did your best to navigate your way over to the stairs through the sea of thrashing people. You were almost to the steps when someone slammed an elbow hard into the side of your face.

“Ow!” you shouted, but nobody paid attention. You reached the railing and pulled yourself up from the crowd, rushing up the stairs as fast as you could and outside the back door of the house.

You could still hear the song from the outside, but it was muffled enough for you to take a few deep breaths. Your face stung where it had been hit, and you had to shake your hands vigorously to steady yourself.

It was too much. It was all too much. Not just the party and the drinking and the drug use, but the anger of it all. The violence. The deliberate threats made towards the God you’ve known and loved your entire life. The hatred towards Him. And it felt personal. It felt like an attack on everything you’ve built your life around.

You let out a choked sound, no longer able to hold the tears back. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying hard not to make noises in case anyone was around, and stumbled your way to the back of the shed, where hopefully nobody could witness your state.

Inside, you heard the song come to an end and the crowd give one final cheer for the band.

You knew the crowd would be dispersing soon and there was a chance someone would stumble upon you. The yard was completely fenced in and in order to get out, you’d have to go through the house.

You sank to your knees, clutching at the frigid blades of grass, which helped steady you a little. Tears still pouring down, you tried to steady your breathing as best as you can, when you heard your name being called.

It was Noah. You didn’t want to answer him. Didn’t want him to see you like this. In your head, you prayed a silent prayer he would go back into the house and let you compose yourself in peace.

God, however, had other plans.

“Shit,” Noah said as he turned the corner of the shed and found you. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He knelt down in front of you, trying to get a look at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you choked out.

“Shit,” he said again, noticing your tears. “Come on, let me walk you home.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to go back through there.” You hid your face, feeling ashamed at your own reaction.

“Come on, let’s talk,” he said, grabbing your hand and trying to pull you to your feet.

“I said I’m fine,” you protested. This time it came out sharper. You didn’t want to take your feelings out on him, but you found it impossible to control your tone in the moment.

“Let’s at least get you into a quiet room. Come on, my studio is in this shed. Nobody will bother you. Promise.”

At the promise of a quiet space with nobody to see you, you relented and allowed him to lead you around the side of the shed. He unclipped a set of keys from a carabiner on his belt loop and used one of them to unlock the door, ushering you inside. He relocked it behind him and plugged in a set of string lights that cast the room in a warm, dim glow.

“Have a seat,” he said and gestured to the couch that lined the wall on one side. You obeyed, sitting on the couch and doubling over, arms crossed over your legs and head buried in them. You continued to work to steady yourself.

Noah set a box of tissues beside you, and then rolled his desk chair in front of where you were sitting. He sat facing you, long legs on either side of your knees. Then he placed his hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You nodded into your arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“What happened?” he asked, voice softer now.

“I had a panic attack.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Because of the song?” he said.

You nodded again.

“Shit,” he said for the third time.

“And I got elbowed in the face.”

“Shit.” A fourth. “Can I see?”

You shook your head no.

“Please? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to show him.

He let out a compressed breath. “Oof. Yeah, it looks like you’ve got yourself a bit of a shiner,” he said, cupping your face gently.

You refused to meet his eyes, instead opting for a tissue so you could blow your nose. An embarrassing amount of mucus shot into the tissue. Then you pulled a second one to wipe off any makeup that may have smeared.

“Does it hurt?”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Is that your favorite word or something?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you about the crowd. I’m so used to that stuff now. I forget what it’s like for someone who’s never been to a show like that before.”

“It’s fine,” you said.

“It’s not though. I’d been drinking. I didn’t have my wits about me, and because of that you got hurt.”

You sighed. “It wasn’t the elbow,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. His brows furrowed with concern and he let his hands slide down to rest on your knees, thumbs rubbing gentle circles over them. You could only handle eye contact for a second before you had to look away again. “Is that how you really feel?”

Noah puffed out a breath. “I didn’t want you to have to see that.”

“I knew you had a lot of anger. But not that much.”

He dropped his head, staring at where his hands rested on your knees. “It must have been pretty jarring.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I think it was just a lot for me. I was out of my comfort zone all night, and then that happened. I’ve never seen so many people with such…disdain for God.”

Noah dug his thumbnail into your thigh softly and bit his lip.

“I know.”

“Why though? Why all the anger? Why the hate? And why do you hang out with those people?”

“I’m one of them,” he said. “I know it might be hard to digest, especially since you’ve been protected from it for so long, but there are a lot of people out there who feel that way. It doesn’t necessarily make them bad people.”

“But that wasn’t just anger. That was hate.”

“Yeah,” he said, cupping the backs of your thighs. He still wasn’t explaining anything and you were growing frustrated.

“What am I not getting?” you finally asked.

Noah hesitated, fingers drawing patterns over your pants.

“Not everyone has the best upbringing,” he explained, voice tender. “There are people born into shitty situations and they never receive the help or support they need. Life doesn’t provide opportunities to them the way it does for some others, and after a while, the injustice of it all gets to be too much.”

He gave you an opportunity to respond, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“My parents were addicts. I think I already mentioned it. And I was born in a town where half the people don’t make it to 18 without an addiction of some sort. Ruffilo and I were lucky to escape, but I’ve seen friends and families torn apart by drugs and crime. I’ve seen pregnant 14-year-old girls turn to prostitution to afford their drug habits. Do you know how hard that is to watch?”

You shook your head.

“If God exists, how can I not be angry with him for allowing shit like that to happen?”

You were at a loss for words, humbled even in your hurt.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, squeezing your thighs with his hands. “I don’t judge you for how you feel about God. But I do need you to accept that this part of me exists. And it’s not going anywhere. At least, not for a while.”

A couple more tears dripped from your lashes and landed on Noah’s hands. He didn’t flinch away. Instead, he brought a thumb up to your cheekbones and wiped off the remaining wetness that clung to your lashes.

“Look. I don’t know if I believe in God. But if he does exist, and he’s as loving as you say he is, I have to believe he’ll forgive me for how I act in my anger. I think he’ll understand why that anger is necessary for me to feel, and I don’t think he’d punish me for it. If anything, I think he’d allow me to move through it for as long as I need. Or want me to, even, so that I can process it and eventually move on.”

As Noah spoke, something washed over you like a wave. A tension that had been growing inside of you for as long as you could remember began to release, and with it came a brand new understanding.

“Noah,” you whispered. “Have you ever thought about being a pastor?”

Noah’s face broke into a smile and he huffed out a breath of air that fanned out over your face. He smelled like stale beer and smoke, but there was another layer underneath that smelled vaguely sweet.

“That is the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“No, I’m serious,” you said with a sniffle, and wiped away another tear. “You know more about God than any church leader I’ve met.”

“I think sometimes it’s hard to see the bigger picture when you’re too close,” he whispered, face now much closer to yours. “I have the benefit of having stepped away.”

You were silent for a moment, digesting the conversation. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but you weren’t ready to go back and rejoin the party.

“Can I show you something I’ve been working on?” asked Noah.

“Sure,” you said.

He kicked his feet into the floor and pushed back from where you were sitting, rolling across the floor and over to his desk. He fiddled with a few wires and switches before opening his laptop and pulling up a program.

“I’ve had this melody in my head for a while,” he said, messing with some of the controls before hitting play. “I don’t have any words yet, but I wanted to show you.”

A soft melody began playing through the speakers. Somber. Completely different from any of the songs you’d heard during their set.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked as the music played.

“A couple of weeks,” he said, not offering much more explanation.

He wouldn’t meet your eye. Rather, he fidgeted with an auxiliary cable, twisting it around in his hands while simultaneously bouncing his legs up and down softly in time with the drums on the track.

The slow melody held out through the song, but the music grew in intensity, settling into a low-fi R&B vibe.

Seemingly growing restless, Noah spun back around in his chair to face you. He muttered something but you were unable to decipher it over the music.

“What?” you asked.

“I’ve been experimenting with different styles,” he said, a little louder. “Hoping to expand my skills.”

“I like this,” you said. “Definitely more to my tastes.”

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Metal isn’t for everyone.”

“I see the appeal of it,” you said. “I’m sure it resonates with a lot of people, even if I’m not one of them. Your band has a lot of…uh…passionate fans.”

The smile reached both sides of his mouth and he inched closer to you.

“What made you decide to come tonight?” he asked, and you knew it was important for you to be honest in that moment.

“I wanted to see you.”

Like a magnet to metal, Noah gravitated toward you again. There were no false pretenses for why. He wanted to be near you.

Resuming his position from earlier, he sat across from you, legs stretched out on either side of yours. He leaned back in his fancy office chair, and you mirrored him, sinking deeper into the couch.

You watched him watching you, scanning his features for any signals as to what was going on inside his head at that moment. The music played out through the speakers and neither of you made any efforts to fill space or silence. When the song reached its conclusion, it stopped automatically, and it was a while before anyone spoke.

“Does it have a name?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Not yet,” he said.

“It’s good. I don’t have much music knowledge to say exactly what it is that I like about it, but I can tell I like it. I’d be interested in seeing how it progresses.”

“Good,” he said, arms folded over his torso. He swiveled slightly from left to right, knees knocking into yours as he did.

You looked from your legs back up to his face and he met your gaze. Normally, you’d be the first one to break a silence like this, finding discomfort in the tension, but that night, you waited, wanting to see what Noah would do.

It took a long time for him to crack, but when he finally did, it was to ask you a question.

“Did you do what we talked about?”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to be more direct with his question.

“Masturbate?” The word held a slight choked sound, as if there’d been an obstacle in his throat trying to get it out.

You nodded.

“How was it?”

“It…was.”

And that was the truth. You’d made an attempt, but experienced a few difficulties. While you went into it with the intention of showing love to yourself without shame, getting rid of that shame was easier said than done.

For one, you couldn’t imagine yourself agreeing to have sex without feeling guilty, which forced you to jump through several mental hoops involving being restrained and forced in order to feel like you had any sort of plausible deniability you could use should God choose that moment to judge you.

However, in doing that, you felt extremely guilty for engaging in that fantasy, because any real victim of sexual assault would not be thinking about it that way, and should you really be romanticizing that kind of thing? You ended up heavily judging yourself before God even had a chance to judge you.

“I ran into some…difficulties.”

“Mentally or physically?” he asked, left thigh pressed up against your right.

“I think mental.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah, kind of. But don’t judge me, okay?”

“If you pictured Isaac, I’m going to have to judge you.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t picture Isaac.”

“Good. Who did you picture?”

“Nobody,” you lied. “Just some nameless, faceless person.”

Up until that point, the conversation had flowed quickly like a game of table tennis, but the lie threw off the rhythm. Noah wasn’t satisfied. He allowed you to get away with it and didn’t press you on it, but now it was his turn for something.

He leaned forward, hands resuming their place on your knees, and looked at you as if he dared you to protest.

You didn’t.

“What difficulties did you have?”

You hesitated. He dug his thumbnail into your thigh.

“I had to imagine myself being forced.”

“Forced?” His hands stilled.

“Like tied up.”

His eyebrow quirked upward. His gaze dropped to where your hands rested in your lap. Sliding his hands up your legs, he encircled your wrists in his long fingers and turned them so they faced upwards, palms open to the sky as if in praise. He kept a tight hold while his eyes flicked briefly back up to meet yours.

Noah was playing a game of chicken. Seeing how far he could push you until you cracked.

“It’s a common fantasy,” he said, voice low and breathy. “Makes sense.”

“You don’t think it’s messed up?”

Noah rubbed his thumbs along the inside of your wrists, stopping every once in a while to apply pressure to different points. He stared at them while he spoke.

“I try not to judge myself for my fantasies. As long as there’s consent, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“You don’t think that it’s disrespectful to people who have been forced in real life?”

He sucked on the inside of his cheek and released it with a clicking sound before taking a deep breath. “Many survivors actually find healing through engaging in that kink.”

“It’s hard to imagine myself consenting without the guilt creeping in.”

Noah nodded. “Understandable. You’ll give it when you’re ready.”

You closed your eyes and indulged in the pressure he put on your wrists. Your skin ignited under his touch, the same way it had when his fingers had brushed the back of your neck all those weeks ago. He trailed his fingers along your palms and your hands closed reflexively around them.

“Is that something you think you’d be into in real life?” he asked. You could hear the shuffling of movement, but didn’t open your eyes. Your fingers continued to dance together with his.

“Hard to say,” you said. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“What’s this?” he asked, finding the silver ring on your left ring finger.

“Promise ring,” you answered.

“Like an engagement ring?” he asked.

“A symbol of a promise to God to stay pure until marriage.” His hands stilled. “We all got one in school.”

Noah pinched the ring between his two fingers.

“Is that something you’re still committed to?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

You opened your eyes to look at Noah, who had vacated his chair and was now kneeling on the floor in front of you.

Holding eye contact, he began to slide the ring up your finger.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just let me try something.” He removed the ring, sticking it in his back pocket for safe keeping. “How does that feel?”

“Light.”

The ring was soldi metal. It weighed heavy on your hand and the absence of it wasn’t unwelcome. This was the first time you’d taken it off since first receiving it. It was both taboo and invigorating.

“When did you make that promise?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“Before you even knew what sexuality was?”

You nodded.

“How cruel,” he said, dropping his hands back to your knees and prying them open so he could wedge his body between them. “Binding yourself to a promise you made before you even knew what you were promising.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” you said, trying not to blush. Noah’s body between your legs was a brand new sensation that left you feeling like your entire lower half was engulfed flames.

His greedy hands migrated to the backs of your knees and he tugged you forward on the couch so your faces were mere inches apart. His breath ghosted across your neck.

Your composure began to crack, breath speeding up, and you hoped he couldn’t tell. Saliva pooled on your tongue. You found yourself unable to look anywhere but his bottom lip, wondering how it would taste. How it would feel between your teeth.

Noah had grown bolder with every move you let him get away with. Any moment, he’d move in for the kill.

“You don’t owe your body to anyone,” he said. “Not even to God.”

“God gave me this body,” you countered.

“Yeah. He did. It’s yours to take care of. Bodies have needs.”

“And you think you’re the one to meet those needs, Noah?”

His fingers clutched hungrily at your thighs. “I could be.”

His tongue poked out to wet his lips. He’d been building towards this conclusion the whole evening, and now it was time for him to make his move. Noah was going to kiss you.

Two things happened simultaneously. Noah tugged you closer, and in his movement, the shiny black horns on the top of his head caught the light and drew your eye to them.

Your gut clenched.

Not yet.

“I should—,” you began a second too late. Noah’s mouth collided with your jaw, and as soon as it registered in his mind, he jumped back as if he’d been burned. “I should, um,” you cleared your throat, “go check on Ava. She’s never drank before. Wouldn’t want her doing anything she’d regret.”

He sat back on his heels, hand coming up to wipe at something on the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.” His dejection was evident in his voice and the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“See you Saturday?” you asked, standing up.

“Sure,” he said, blinking up at the ceiling. The defeated slump of his shoulders was what fully broke you. With one last look of apology, you unlocked the door and slipped out. Halfway across the yard, you heard a banging sound from the shed, as if something had been kicked.

You rushed inside to find Ava.

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desperate-gay · 1 year ago

Note

can i request you write a leah fic based on the song constellations by jade lemac

Constellations

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

summary: you thought you can change someones perspective of love. i guess not

Leah Williamson has a reputation for sleeping around. People use more harsh terms to describe her, but that feels wrong since you know her. Well, you don’t know her; you play alongside her for the England national team and Arsenal. Once in a while, you both have a conversation, but nothing too deep.

Although, recently, the blonde has been approaching you more and more. Whether it was on the pitch during training, in the locker room, or even at team get-togethers.

You’d think she’d want to get to know more about you before flirting with you constantly, but hey, she’s got that reputation for a reason. She sees what she wants, and she goes for what she wants, and most of the time, she gets what she wants.

Now, of course, you find Leah attractive; anyone with eyes should. That doesn’t mean you’re just going to bend over for her. You never liked the idea of having one-night stands with one of your teammates and going back to training the next day like nothing happened. You also never liked the idea of sleeping around with anyone. It’s exhausting to invite someone into your bed just so they can fuck you and leave the same night.

You have always wanted a meaningful, loving relationship. Sure, you had your fair share in the past, but those obviously all ended up in the dump. None of which made you feel exhilarated. And the fact that the player on the team now wants to get into your pants is quite annoying.

Keira and Lucy always warn Leah to stay away from you. You’re the sunshine of the group that never fails to make someone smile. They didn’t want her to take that spark away from you. Alessia and Ella always glare at the defender’s attempts to flirt with you. You three are considered the gigglers of the lionesses. You guys are usually never seen without one another unless you are with your favorite person in the whole world, Esme Morgan.

If you aren’t with Tooney or Lessi, you are most definitely with the smiley gal. The two of you have the brightest smiles and most infectious laughs ever. Both are the kindest beings anyone could meet on this earth, plus, to mention, you two basically grew up together.

So when Esme found out what was happening, her usual chippy personality turned bitter. She knows Leah��s intentions, and she doesn’t want that anywhere near you. People may call her particularly protective over you, but she just doesn’t want to see you hurt is all.

When you noticed her attitude switch whenever the flirtatious blonde approached you, you assured her there was nothing to worry about.

—

Practice has just ended, so everyone is getting changed in the locker room. You are pulling your shirt over your head when you hear someone approaching you.

“You looked quite fit out there, darling.”

You whip around and see the one person who has enough confidence to say something like that with no hesitation.

“Thank you.” You say, looking down bashfully, never really knowing how to take compliments. The taller girl notices the red that starts to appear at the tip of your ears and smirks to herself.

She places her right hand on your hip before leaning in close to your ear. “You always look fit, my dear.” She whispers before moving your body to the side to walk past you. Your eyes follow her path with your mouth slightly open.

Ella, Alessia, Lucy, and Esme all watch the interaction happen with clenched jaws and piercing eyes. Keira doesn’t have the heart to be angry at her best friend, but she does sigh and look down to continue packing her kit. Leah can feel multiple eyes trailing her, but she doesn’t let it bother her. Overall, it’s your choice what happens between you two, not theirs.

Once you’re done with changing, Esme offers you a ride home so she can hang out and steal your ice cream. You, of course, accept her offer, wanting to spend more time with your best friend. When you get into her car, you plug in your phone to the aux cord and play your guy’s playlist in the background.

“Besides stealing all of my food, what do you plan on doing when we get to my home?”

She hums as a sign she’s trying to think of an answer. “I’m not sure yet; I haven’t gotten that far.” You scoff at her teasing smile and quickly return it.

As you pull into the parking space in front of your loft, you notice a man standing on concrete with a bouquet of multiple different flowers, looking confused. You and Esme step out of the car, and you make your way towards the stranger.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you need help with anything?” The young man gives a clumsy smile and nods his head.

“You don’t by chance know a ughh, Y/n Y/l/n around here, do you?”

"Umm, that, ironically, would be me.” Your face scrunches up in confusion, while Esme’s does the same. The man gently hands you the flowers, saying someone sent them to you.

“You just have to sign here, please, to let the company know you’ve received your flowers in perfect condition.” He exaggerates as you fake solute, asking the blonde next to you to hold the flowers. You sign the paper and say a quick goodbye before moving up a few steps to your front door to unlock it.

“Who in the world sent flowers to you?” She teases, taking her shoes off and handing you the flowers. You place your nose right over the flowers to smell them.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” All you do is shrug your shoulders before moving around to look for a vase. You set the flowers in the center of the table and go to join Esme on the sofa. She grabs the remote and puts on Modern Family. You look over and notice a sour expression on her face. Reaching over, you poke her cheek to make her look over at you. “What’s up, Ez?”

“I bet I know who sent the flowers.” She grumbles with her arms crossed, still looking at the television. After thinking about it briefly, you finally understand who she’s referring to. She wouldn’t have that familiar scowl for just anybody.

“Hey, even if it was her, there’s no need to worry about anything. She sleeps around, and that’s something I don’t like, remember?” She turns her head towards you and has a semi-sad expression.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I see the way you blush around her.” Her voice is soft, along with her facial features. You reach over and grab her hand to squeeze it.

“I know you don’t, and I love that about you. Yes, I find Leah attractive, but she doesn’t want anything serious, and I’m not putting myself in that situation.” Esme nods in understanding, and you both turn your attention back to the show in comfortable silence.

—

“Did you see the gift I sent you?”

You’re on the pitch stretching before training starts when Leah comes over to you. You sigh and stand up to turn towards her. "Yes, I did; they were beautiful, but I’m still trying to figure out why I got them.”

“Because a beautiful girl deserves beautiful things.” She smiles without breaking eye contact. You playfully roll your eyes at her and bend down to touch your toes.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

It’s silent for a minute before the taller girl blurts, “Go on a date with me tonight.”

You quickly straighten your posture and give her all your attention. Your eyebrows furrowed at the demand. “Pardon?”

“Let me take you out tonight. I know just the place.” She notices your hesitation, so she places a hand on your waist. “C’mon, dinner and maybe some sex?”

You scoff at her forward statement and start to walk away. “No.”

“Fine, just sex.” She follows after you. No one is near you two, so no one can hear what’s happening. You stop and turn around.

“How about just dinner?”

“Ehhhh.”

“Then no.”

You move to continue to walk away before her hand reaches out to grip your wrist. “Okay, okay. Just dinner.”

—

It turns out you and Leah only live about two blocks from one another, so when it’s time to pick you up, she decides to walk over. The place she has made reservations for is right across the street from your place. Leah let you know beforehand that the place you’ll be eating at isn’t too fancy, so just dress casually.

You’re finishing up the last minor touches on your makeup when you hear a knock at your door. Quickly, you grab your purse, phone, and keys and rush to open the door. Leah looks over, smiling, and offers you her hand to take once you lock the door. She’s wearing a white dress shirt along with tan baggy jeans, while you wear black leggings with a light blue tank top.

The date overall goes great. When you get seated, Leah being the gentlewoman she is, pulls out your seat for you and pushes you in. You both get to know each other better and laugh at the random stories you tell each other.

Your arm is hooked on Leah’s as you both laugh and walk towards your home. You stop right before you reach your stairs and look at her with a smile. “I had a lot of fun tonight, thank you.” The keys dangle in your hand, and then Leah reaches and steals them for you.

“Let me help you with your flowers.” She smiles smugly, keeping the keys behind her shoulder.

“No, we just met tonight.”

“We have known each other for years. We play for the same teams.” Your faces are close together as you giggle.

“We might play together, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Tonight was our first step in actually getting to know one another.”

“C’mon.” She leans even closer, trying to tempt you. Your eyes wander at her face before you pull back slightly.

“You can’t come up.” You say with all the willpower you have left. She sure knows how to get a girl to swoon. “You have to woo me first.”

You dramatically flip your hair, making the taller girl laugh at your antics. Her laughter dies down, and she places her hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. “I can definitely woo you if you let me up.”

You laugh again and press your hands to her chest. “I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.” You whisper while looking her in the eyes. Pecking her cheek, you take quick action to grab your keys and run up the stairs. Once you unlock your door, you turn your attention to the starstruck girl. “Goodnight, Leah.”

—

Surprisingly, Leah asks you on a second date the day after. Esme doesn’t like the sound of it, but she can’t control what you do, so she just accepts it.

Once again, Leah picks you up from your house, and you both walk to the unknown destination of your date. She said it’s about a 20-minute walk before getting you. On arrival, you see a bright neon sign saying arcade.

“You didn’t.” You excitedly say and smile at the blonde.

“Are you ready to get your butt beat?”

Through the date, you both challenge each other in multiple games like air hockey, racing games, etc. So when it comes down to your tiebreaker, Leah challenges you in one last game of basketball. You both put the tokens in and press the button to play against each other and once the buzzer tells you to go, you both start making shots left and right. Leah looks over and grabs one of your basketballs to palm it and hold it in the air.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You look at the score and see she has a few more points than you. The taller girl smirks as you try to reach for the ball that's in her hand. With her other free hand, she pushes against your back to pull you closer to her, and she leans down, pressing her lips against yours. You’re shocked at the quick action, but you stop trying for the ball that’s above your head and wrap your arms around her neck.

You pull away when the whistle signals the game is done. Both of your guy’s eyes remain on the other’s lips, still a little hazed from the kiss.

“I win.” She whispers, making you wonder if she's talking about the game or you.

—

The next date is a simple stroll downtown, visiting all the little stores. Your hands stay interlocked while walking up and down the streets.

In one of the buildings you go into, you see a photo booth and beg Leah to go with you. After a few seconds of you pleading, she finally says yes and lets you drag her to the curtain-covered box. The first photo you take is just one of you guys smiling at the camera. The second one is both of you sticking your tongues out and crossing your eyes. The third is a little blurry because of the two of you laughing and moving to hunch over. Then the fourth and final photo contains both of you gazing at each other with loving looks in your eyes. Soon after the last photo is taken, you both lean in for a feverish kiss.

You grab the photo strip from the outside of the booth and smile at the photos. You start to complain that there’s only one strip, but she insists you take it, knowing you want it the most.

After an hour or two more of exploring the town, she walks you up your stairs to your front door. Your hands softly grab the back of her neck and pull her in for a sweet kiss. When you pull away, she chases after your lips with a whine, causing you to giggle. You place one final peck on her lips and whisper, “Goodnight, Leah.”

—

Looking in the mirror, you put on your earrings and step back to look at your dress. It’s a scarlet red dress that hugs your body just right. The back of it cuts low to the lower part of your back, and the front shows the perfect amount of cleavage. The necklace that hangs from your neck fits perfectly with it. Smoothing out the fabric, you hear the familiar rhythm of the knock on your door.

Leah stands there in all her glory in a gray, sleeveless pantsuit. The outfit shows off her toned arms and collarbones perfectly. You let out a breath you don’t know you’re holding, and take her awaiting hand. She presses a kiss to your fingertips and says, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You blush at the name and also compliment her back. She walks you towards an unfamiliar car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I figured we should drive this time. I’m sure it won’t be comfortable walking in those shoes.” She points at your short heels. It makes you realize that for all of your dates, you always walked to your destination. You smile at her consideration for your comfort and get in the car. While she drives, she places her hand on your knee and rubs her thumb up and down.

When she pulls up to the fancy restaurant, she rushes to your side of the car and opens the door for you, holding her other hand out for you to grab to help you get out. Walking in, you hear soft orchestral music playing through the building, along with people’s conversations merging and the echoing of silverware clinking together. It wasn’t loud; it was quite relaxing. Leah and you approach the podium with a girl standing behind it with a smile on her face. Leah’s hand stays at the small of your back to guide you and also just to feel you.

“Hello, what can I help you with tonight?” The host asks in a sweet tone.

“Hi, I made a reservation.”

“Sure! Under what name would that be?” The girl taps on the touch screen in front of her to check for the name.

“Leah Williamson.” The blonde nods softly at the host.

“Great! Now if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your seats.” Leah smiles and keeps her hand on your back as you follow the girl. She pulls out your chair for you, just like she did on your first date. “The waiter will be here to take your orders shortly.” The host smiles at the two of you and makes her way back to the front.

You both ordered your desired dishes along with some dessert to share. You’re both laughing when a random girl comes over and places her hand on Leah’s shoulder, making you frown at the action. The blonde turns over and sees a semi-familiar face.

“Hey Leah, I haven’t seen you since that crazy night at the club.” The random girl continues to rub one of her hands up and down Leah’s shoulder as if you weren’t there. Leah just politely smiles and greets her. The girl tries to continue a conversation when you pick up two of your empty dishes and hand them to her.

“Thank you so much; the food was amazing.” Leah turns her head at you with a smile as the random girl gives you a strange look, but walks away with the dishes anyway. You grab your glass of wine and slowly sip it while staring at the walking figure, but you’re interrupted by the laughter coming from across the table.

“What was that?” She chuckles, and you give her a knowing look. She shakes her head with a soft smile displayed on her lips.

—

Once Leah pulls up to the sidewalk of your home, she walks you up to your door and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s not very long, but she backs away and places a kiss on your knuckles. The blonde moves down one stair and turns to walk away, but gets stopped by your hand continuing to grip hers. Her eyes meet yours as you nod your head towards the house.

“Why don’t you come in for a drink? Their wine wasn’t all that good.” Leah nods her head and smiles while you drag her inside.

You both were already tipsy from the restaurant, so adding more alcohol to your systems is like adding fuel to a fire. Hands are roaming each other’s bodies whenever you can, and you both feel just as fuzzy-headed. Music plays on your surround system around the house while both of you find comfortable positions across from each other on the couch, and Leah leans over and brushes a string of hair behind your ear.

“You look absolutely stunnin’ right now. Cheeks all rosy, hair a little messy. So beautiful.” She whispers toward the end because she’s too busy leaning in. Her lips lightly brush against yours, allowing you to pull away if needed. You maneuver yourself forward, pressing your lips together with more force, which makes the blonde smile slightly. Hands fall to your waist and start to pull you in even closer.

“You’re really good at that.” You breathlessly whisper, keeping your hands on her shoulders as she keeps hers on your hips. Your eyes flutter close when the defender moves her nose to touch yours, teasing her lips at the side of your mouth.

“I know I am.” That cocky personality comes back stronger than ever, so before you can scold her, she slams her lips back on yours and glides her tongue into your mouth, causing you to gasp, which allows her to push her tongue even further. She bites down on your bottom lip and pulls it, tugging it toward her before letting it go with a pop. You kiss down her jawline, eventually even further to her neck. Her hands find a place on your ass and guide you to start rocking your hips a little, encouraging you to keep sucking at her sweet spot.

She abruptly stands up with her hands remaining in their initial place, holding you up with her with your legs wrapped around her waist. “Where’s your bedroom?” She asks, breath ghosting of your face.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.”

You attach your lips back to hers as she blindly makes her way to your bedroom, trying not to crash into anything. Once she steps foot into the room, her foot kicks your door closed, and she pins you against it. The music can still be heard from the speakers, making the mood even hotter. The taste of wine can still be found in both of your mouths as you make out against the wooden door.

“How are you so good-looking all the time?” Leah mutters, moving over to your bed and placing you on the soft sheets.

“How are you so good-looking all the time?” You counter back, sitting up so you're face-to-face with the other girl. Her finger slips under one of the straps of your dress, slowly pulling it down while peppering kisses down your shoulder. She repeats the action on the opposite side and drags your dress down your body, still trailing kisses along with it. Once it’s off, she throws it somewhere on the floor and takes quick action to unclip your strapless bra. “It’s unfair that you’re still dressed and I’m not.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s about to get fucked into this mattress.” She rasps, plunging her lips to your neck to start sucking and biting at the flesh. Your hips buck into hers when she finds the perfect spot and nibbles on it. Her hands make work of your breasts, making you jump at the cold feeling of her rings on your warmed-up skin.

Finally, her fingers make it to the waistband of your pants, and she pulls them down as her lips kiss right above the fabric as it’s getting dragged away. Your breath hitches in anticipation as she flings the fabric to meet your dress on the floor.

“Let me take this off, at least.” Your fingers fiddle with the buttons on her top and begin to undo them. Her eyes gaze at yours as you look up at her.

“You look so good under me, baby.” Her voice lowers almost to the point where you can’t hear her. She shrugs off her top and steps out of her pants, so she is only in her underwear. The palms of her hands meet the inner of your thighs, spreading them so she can get a better look. “You’re soaking wet. Did I do this to you?”

You nod your head with a whine, wanting the blonde to do something to relieve your needs.

“Words, doll.”

“Yes, yes, you did this to me, and I need you to do something about it. Please.”

She chuckles at your desperation and kisses your stomach, then your thighs, and finally the place you need her the most. Her tongue draws a line up your slit before sucking on your clit. Your hips buck subconsciously, but Leah puts an end to it when her hands reach your waist and force you down onto the bed. You bite your lip so you don’t make a sound. This makes the blonde stop and raise her head.

“Don’t bite your lip. I want to hear exactly how I make you feel.” She states seductively, returning to her position, lapping up your arousal, and sucking on your bud. The sound of your moans bouncing off the walls, along with music from the living room, sparks the girl up more. Your hand digs into her hair, and your hips start to rock against her face when she moves faster, allowing the buildup in the pit of your stomach to get bigger. Your moans become more frequent and a little louder, showing Leah that you’re close. She pulls away for a split second to whisper, “Cum for me, doll.”

Your back arches further and further off the bed the closer you get; eventually, the coil snaps, making your body shutter and muscles tense, allowing your body to return to its first resting position. Leah’s tongue slowly continues to place soft licks, helping you get all the way through your orgasm. Your hand makes its way to her cheek and urges her to move up by you. Her chin glistens in your arousal, and she drags her thumb over it to wipe it off, then places her thumb in her mouth.

“You taste so sweet.” Your arms wrap around her neck to pull her down and kiss her. As her tongue makes its way into your mouth, you can taste the mixture of alcohol and you.

Right away, her fingertips drag down your stomach and then down to your heat. Testing the waters, she rubs her fingers over your clit which causes your legs to twitch since you’re still a little sensitive.

“Are you going to continue being my good girl?”

“Yes.”

Her smirk widens at your obedience, and as a reward, her fingers dip into your dripping hole, making you gasp at the sensation. Without warning, she plunges two digits into you, chuckling at your whimpers and moans. Her lips make their way back to yours, swallowing all of your little noises.

After a minute or two, her fingers brush against your g-spot and her lips start sucking on your pulse point, leaving a hickey. Your moans grow louder at the repeating strokes that hit your spot perfectly. Compared to your orgasm, this one feels way more intense.

“I can feel you tighten around my fingers, darling. You’re already gonna cum again?”

This time you can’t respond; you’re too breathless, and the whines spilling out of your mouth constantly don’t give you any time to answer her. Your vision becomes spotty, and you feel wetness covering the insides of your thighs. Your orgasm crashes over you but lasts longer than anyone you’ve ever had.

Without your knowledge, Leah pulls away and looks at you with her jaw hanging open. When you finally come down from your high, you meet her gaze with a questioning look. A smug smile takes over her features, which makes you even more confused.

“You soaked the sheets and my arm, doll.”

Your eyes trail down, and you see a big wet patch on the mattress and the blonde's arm soaked. Feeling embarrassed, you cover your face with your hands and fall back against the pillows with a groan. Leah wipes her arm against the sheet you will definitely be washing later.

Leah lays beside you and grabs your wrists to move them from your face. She leans over and pecks your forehead, your chin, both of your cheeks, your nose, and then finally, your lips. Her eyes light up when she sees you smile at her gesture. You’re both lying together for a few minutes before Leah stands up and grabs her shirt.

“What are you doing?” You sit up with your arms holding you.

“Uhh, I’ve got a couple of errands to run in the morning, so I’ve gotta get home.” Her fingers work at one of the buttons of her shirt, and she keeps her head down.

You sigh before saying, “I know you have a reputation for sleeping around, and I know it’s a mess, but you don’t need to hide. You can let me in. So you can either get into bed at the count of three or you can walk out that door and never talk to me again.”

Her fingers stop buttoning up her shirt, and she finally looks at you.

“Three.”

Still in the same spot.

“Two.”

Only moves one step forward.

“One.” You pull your comforter down, patting the spot she was previously in. She quickly takes her top off and lays down next to you. You turn to your side so Leah can wrap her arms around you. Her nose nuzzles into your neck, and she hears you mumble, “I knew you had a soft side.”

The taller girl realizes she enjoys having a body next to her, especially one she’s grown to really like, but then it hits her. She’s never done this. This isn’t who she is. Multiple thoughts race through her head while you sleep soundly right next to her. She slowly removes her arms, making sure you don’t stir, which, luckily for her, you don’t. Quickly, she stands up, gets dressed, and rushes out the door.

—

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you up. You smile and turn around, only to be met with empty sheets. Sitting up, you look on the ground and see all of Leah’s clothes missing.

The feeling of embarrassment floods your veins as you pull your blanket up to cover your chest. You feel stupid that you actually believed Leah would fall for you. You feel used, as if she just took you on those dates just to have sex with you. And you feel ashamed. Ashamed, you didn’t listen to any of the warnings thrown your way by your best friends.

Tears begin to trail down your cheeks before you even realize it. I guess you’re just not lovable for the Leah Williamson.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #woso x reader #woso smut #leah williamson #woso #lgbtq

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lancabbage · 2 months ago

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When someone brings out the novel artwork as 'proof' WWXs og body didn't have scars all over his back from YZYs canonical abuse... You know you're dealing with an idiot.

Yes, the art is pretty and a nice addition. But it's not canon and it hardly depicts it either... We have artwork in the novel that shows WWX in red and black during his youth when he would have been wearing Jiang clan purple. He only starts wearing black post burial mounds escape. So that's incorrect...

We have novel art depicting WWX with glowing red eyes... Also not canonically true either. Nor are his tits ever particularly out, but most give his YLLZ era a plunge neckline so low you might be able to see the hint of his garden path if you look close enough!

If you're using mostly fan generated artwork - who have been clearly influenced by the CQL and donghua or their own personal headcanons and preferences - you're a moron and wasting my time.

“Uh, yeah,” Wei Wuxian said. He felt his back, which was LINED WITH OLD AND NEW WELTS. He couldn’t help but ask the question he’d been dwelling on. “Really, this must be the greatest injustice in all of history. Why am I always the only one getting hit whenever something happens?”

7S translation

Wei WuXian, “Uh-huh, that’s right.” He felt his back, COVERED IN SCARS BOTH OLD AND NEW, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

ExR translation

YZY whipped and abused WWX whenever she was in residence at Lotus Pier. Considering she was apparently barely there and the detailed description of new and old scars (wounds/welts*/injuries - whatever you want to fucking call it!! It's all the same!!!) we see in the extras, she must have harmed him any chance she got while she was back. We see her lashing him (and him alone!) for the most tenuous of "reasons"... The fact it states he was covered in scars both new and old shows historical abuse spanning some time - most likely since he arrived at LP at the age of nine!!!

So don't go pulling that bullshit on me when we're talking about canon FACTS. Especially when people cherry pick the text to conveniently show what they want and omit the stuff that shows they're talking from their ass.

*An English lesson for those struggling with 7S translation choice for the scars on WWXs back...

The term "welts" doesn't JUST mean a swollen bruise like mark on the skin or an itchy raised bump. It's a technical term used for injuries and scars left behind from being whipped or beaten hard and heavily with something. While I'm not a fan of their word choices, this is technically correct in the sense the marks are classified as welts as defined above.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #mdzs novel #wwxs canon abuse

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mollyrolls · 3 months ago

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stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 1: the bet

prev. / mlist. / next

next in queue: roxanne - the police

Issei pushes open the door of the corner store, the air conditioning chilling the sweat on his skin. One clear chime rings out, echoing in the silence.

He doesn't need cherries. He knows they don’t, he got two jars yesterday and neither have been opened. Yet, he’s back at the market. Coming to buy cherries.

It’s also to see her again. Issei has no idea if she’d be working today, considering he doesn’t even know her name. Let alone a schedule. But if she wasn’t there, he could just ask a coworker for her name.

But maybe name is too creepy? He definitely couldn’t ask when she’s working next, that’s serial killer levels of stalker. And he was willing to play it cool. If something came up, he’d work it out.

“Welcome in.”

Her cadence is already familiar to him, and he feels his shoulders simultaneously loosen and tense. Any thoughts he had about restraining himself and playing it cool fly instantly from his head.

He turns on his heel, redirecting his path to walk in front of the counter. She’s sucking him in like a magnet.

He mutters a hey to her as he passes, but her earphones are in their rightful spot. Elastic rubber band is probably playing too loudly for him to be heard. It’s frustrating losing to a flimsy piece of wire.

Issei makes quick work of his shopping, choosing to forgo the mints completely. She didn’t seem to care about them in the first place. So it’s a quick grab of a pot of maraschino cherries and he’s right back up front.

She pays him even less attention than she did yesterday. He tries not to let it get to him, still confident in his plan to sway her.

She’s so distracted that he’s allowed a moment to peer over the counter to what she’s working on.

Her phone lights up once, a few texts slowly filling in. His main focus is on the sketch pad she’s hunched over, and the way that her mouth folds as she bites down on the inside of her lip.

He can’t quite make out what she’s working on, but he does note several sloppy hatch marks that shade some kind of background.

Issei tries to shift his head and get a clearer view, but his movement in her periphery alerts her to his presence.

For someone who was so stoic yesterday, her face does a poor job of hiding her reactions when she’s surprised. Issei watches in amusement as she notices him, recognizes him, panics when she thinks he saw her work, and rapidly schools her face into nonchalance.

She’s not as subtle with the covering of the notebook. He feels the tiniest bit bad for trying to pry on something she’s clearly protective of. He’ll be sure to course correct.

“Hey.” He starts, donning a warm and lazy smile.

“Hi. Did you find everything okay?” She responds, hesitant to act particularly casual towards him. She’s clearly on her guard, a bit like a scared animal.

“Just as easily as yesterday.”

Silence falls between them, Issei standing there and staring while she waits for him to hand over his groceries. He thinks briefly that he could hold her hostage like this, allowing him the chance to appreciate her in the way that he longs to.

Every second spent with her, simply in her presence, sends Issei further into this lovestruck spiral. One that he’s walking into with open arms.

She clears her throat, shifting awkwardly on her stool. “Excuse me, sir. Are you going to purchase those or just stare at me?”

“Mattsun.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Mattsun.” He replies, finally handing her the cherries. “Or Issei, if you’d like. But Mattsun is just fine.”

No response. She notes the cherries, looking up at him unamused, and scans it quickly.

“I told you, shirley temples are popular.” He starts, falling back into the song and dance they had yesterday. Waiting for a topic that excites her, which he’ll cling to.

“Mmmhmm. Cash or card?”

“Card. You know me.” He fishes it out once again, taking even longer this time. He even picks out his personal card, just to put it back and get the work one.

He dangles it, just out of her reach. She doesn’t bite, and they sit in another wave of silence, staring at each other.

Issei is loving it. She looks like she’s watching paint dry.

Finally she sighs, realizing Issei is getting what he wants by prolonging the interaction.

“I win.” He smiles at her while she reaches toward him. He momentarily thinks about pulling it farther, but remembers his promise.

He’s playing the long game.

So she takes it, expression still indifferent. The same taps on the register, the grind of the receipt.

“Hey, you didn’t ask me about that!”

She deadpans further. “Do you want a receipt.”

He knows his grin is stupid. “Yes, please.”

It’s dropped into the plastic bag, both thrust toward him with more annoyance than yesterday.

“Thank you for shopping at Kumonoue. Have a good night.”

“Oh!” He remembers, ignoring her goodbye. “I heard a good song this morning.”

She continues to look unimpressed. “I have work to do, sir. Other people need help.”

He brandishes his arm around, theatrically scanning the store for another living thing. When he finds none, he turns back to look at her with humor all over his face.

She just sighs under her breath, settling back on the stool and resigning herself.

He’s never been picky. Attention is attention, and hers is hard earned.

“It’s Mattsun. Anyways. It was Connection, by Elastica. You ever heard of them?”

His joke is not well received. Maybe he had pushed his luck too much earlier, and she really was getting sick of him. Or even worse, uncomfortable. He knew it was a bit of a toss up, but her reaction to his foolishness yesterday led him to think he had better odds.

Her face screws up slightly, looking a little betrayed. Before Issei could blink, she’s standing from the stool and disappearing behind a backroom wall.

“Oh, hey! C’mon, I’m sorry.” He calls out, hoping she can still hear him. “That was just a stupid joke, I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Still, no response. Issei starts to kick himself, truly ruining his chances before he ever had a real shot. All of his flirtatious experience seems to fall away as soon as he’s near her, leaving her immune to his charm.

She emerges again, holding a box of some beverages on her hip. Making no motion to talk, or even acknowledge Issei anymore, she leaves him standing in the front of the store. Feeling like a dejected, rejected schoolboy.

Now, Issei has a choice. He could leave, tail tucked between his legs and with a bad taste in his mouth. Or, he can try again. Could make it worse, but he could also make it better.

The choice isn’t hard to make.

He waits a few moments before following her, focusing all his energy on seeming apologetic and polite.

He settles a few feet away from her, leaving at least one aisle of space between them. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

She startles at his voice, seemingly surprised that he’s still around.

“Um. I don’t know you.” She doesn’t sound scared, or uneasy. But she’s also not pleased.

“Would you want to change that?”

“Look.” She looks over her shoulder, still crouched down by the drinks. He notices how much energy she commands without trying, her nonchalance feeling intimidating and overwhelming despite being half his height.

“I’m not interested in anything. No boyfriend, no one-night stands, no hookup buddies, nothing. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“Okay. That works for me.”

She cuts him a cool glare, not buying it for a second. Granted, she’s absolutely correct in her assumption, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He leans against the side of the aisle, matching her energy. “We can just get to know each other. Would that be so bad? Being friends?”

She thinks for a second before humming noncommittally, trying once again to return to her work. Issei lets her stack about three drinks before trying again.

“Do you like to bet?”

“What.” She doesn't bother to look back. She’s probably getting whiplash.

“Do you like to bet. Like, if I proposed a bet to you, would you take it?”

“Money involved?”

“Of course.”

“Does it include you leaving the store?”

“Nope.”

“Oh well. Worth a shot.” She stands, turns, and leans back against the fridges. Arms crossed, but not combative like he might have thought. It’s almost like she’s indulging him.

“Let’s hear it.”

When he had planned this bet last night with Suna, he had predicted at least seven different ways it could have gone. Using it as a last ditch effort to make her not hate him was surprisingly not one of them.

Issei takes a shaky breath and clears his throat. He wants the floor to eat him whole, but he still asks it with confidence. “I’ll bet you ¥8000 you’ll fall in love with me by the end of the month.”

Her eyes widen. Not with fear, but in disbelief.

She covers her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh. “¥8000? That’s like, half a shift.”

“I work at a barely-in-business bar, I only have so much.” He responds, trying to stay cool. Every time she chooses to indulge him his heart kicks up; he loves the challenge she poses to him.

She takes a moment and Issei swears the world comes crashing to a halt. It’s nothing special, a sideways glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. But she’s got that crinkle by her eyes again, a soft and genuine smile donning her features. Almost wide enough to see her teeth, but she’s not that generous.

“Yeah, alright. ¥8000 is ¥8000.”

Issei fully stumbles. He can hardly believe his luck. Not only did she not view him as a creepy stalker, she tolerated him enough to take the bet.

She graces him with a laugh. “You’re something else Mattsun.”

“You remembered my name?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re kinda hard to forget about.”

He’s almost positive she didn’t mean it as a compliment, but the implication that she’s thought about him at all is enough to send him spiraling. Not to mention how nice his name sounded coming from her voice. If he could live off that alone, he would.

“Now, are you going to bother me more or can I do my job?”

He simply raises a hand, pointing one finger up.

“Just one more thing. You know my name, what’s yours?”

She takes another moment, chewing at the inside of her cheek. The only noise being the whirr of the fridges and Issei’s bated breath.

“Mmm. I’ll let you figure it out.”

She grins, almost evilly, and he suddenly feels very excited for tomorrow.

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@bakingcuriosity, @nobodybutnnoorr, @ciderscape, @lilchubbyyy, @soulfullystarry,

@interstellarz, @wakashudou , @myromanempiree, @notverymarley, @zumicho,

@lllaw, @eggyrocks, @cnnmairoll, @cosmiicdust, @reignsaway,

@wyrcan, @garfieldissocool, @soobin1437, @guitarstringed-scars, @adorerinn,

@thiisisntlovely, @miliondollagirl, @snail-squasher, @pocketful-ofdaisies, @cherrypieyourface,

@honeekyuu, @rivaiken

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu smau #hq smau #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei x reader #issei x reader #matsukawa x you #issei x you #matsukawa smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #mw.matsukawa issei #stop the clock

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years ago

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"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #this time it's twn jaskier and stuff but some hexer geralt backstory #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #possibly part of a series where jaskier realizes how fucked up geralt's childhood was

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angelfirstclass · 6 months ago

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Cherik- the heart and soul of X-men 97.

So whether you ship them together or think of them as brothers or whatever, the relationship between Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier is the heart and soul of this show and dare I say the entire franchise in whatever form. We see their friendship and being nemeses and relationship in pretty much all versions of the X-men and Xmen 97 is chock full of Cherik gold.

The series starts out with Magneto inheriting the X-men and Xavier's entire estate which says a lot about their close relationship and Xavier's trust in Magneto. He trusts and relies on him even above his precious X-men as they are caught off guard by this news and are even hurt by it like Scott. In this act, Xavier follows his heart and feels that by doing this he gets Magneto to come to his path and for the X-men to lose an adversary and also be less burdened with leading the team.

Going forward, Magneto loyally follows Xavier's path honoring his memory and legacy. Even reluctantly and with gritted teeth his restraint is "proof of (his) desire to honor Charles Xavier's dream of mutant human coexistence". To see how far he was before as a X-men adversary to one who truly wanted to honor Xavier was very extreme and a testament to Erik's love for Xavier. He goes through a lot in the series even undergoing a massacre and even through that event continues to try to be a X-man and show restraint and be a leader, but eventually it becomes too much for him.

The scene in episode 2 is very telling of their relationship when Magneto speaks of the helmet and how he could always sense Charles as a presence. "I was in his thoughts and he in mine." Romantic or not, this line highlights just how important the two of them were to each other and that's love is it not? Then Rogue hits the nail on the head by stating that Magneto was worried about if he felt how much Xavier still loved him, Magneto wouldn't be able to go through with his crusade. Magneto canonically lays out that he knew/knows that Xavier loves him.

At the end of ep 2, Magneto is seen looking at a picture of Charles and himself when they were young that is kept framed on Charles' desk. Whether that was Charles' picture (which I suspect) or put there by Erik, the implications are clear the two are important to each other despite the past or their differences. Storm is talking about finding connection and pans on Rogue and Magneto and Morph and Wolverine, but also stands for Charles and Erik.

In ep 5, Magneto is considered to rule over Genosha because of his trial and because Xavier trusted Magneto with the X-men. He mentions the pivotal bar scene we will see later and what a moment it is for Magneto. At this moment, he is seeing his and Xavier's dreams coming true which he never thought possible. It turns out Magneto was right, but at this moment Xavier's dream seemed real and it was Magneto that was leading the way to get them there.

At this point I have to mention Rogue in that she is the only other person that is connected to Erik and understanding of his thoughts. I like Rogue and don't think that it gets in the way of Cherik. Rogue has seen Erik's inner thoughts through her absorption powers or by the time spent talking to him. She is the one who gets the Cherik relationship better than most and understands the love the two have for each other and how long and deep their relationship is. She is not an obstacle to Cherik, she may be the Queen Erik wants (particularly when he thinks Charles is gone), but is also someone who gets the Cherik thing and understands. This leaves so much room for love triangles and Magneto bi loveness galore. Rogue GETS it, she's not going to stand in the way.

Then leading to the finale, there is so much Cherik even a non-Cherik fan is left with no doubt that there is something there between the two. Whether its the salty "Welcome home, cheater" vibes about the Bird Queen, the bickering about Genosha and Bastion and Magneto's response, and the scintillating together in Erik's mind sequences, there is so much Charles-Erik action going on that the writers gifted us.

Granted, I was sort of pissed at Xavier in the first part of the finale for not being on Magneto's side and being so harsh on him after all that Erik had been through as well as thinking that going into his head was a violation. I still kind of feel that way, but I'm more understanding of Xavier's flaws (he's not perfect, not by a longshot) and also of how much he loves Erik despite violating his mind. The fact that he was willing to lose his own mind and also endure the tragedies and pain of Erik despite knowing Erik's tragic history is a testament to how much he loves Erik. Magneto may have conflicting feelings about what happened after season 1, but I don't think he's going to ever forget how Xavier basically talked him out of oblivion and made him come back to himself talking about love and family.

Magneto saves the day, but it must be remembered that Professor Xavier did not have to return Magneto back to his mind or the world. Magneto has been a fierce adversary in the past and is currently causing major mayhem to the planet and still Xavier considers him a brother and encourages him to recognize and become Magneto again. In another storyline, Rogue could have absorbed Magneto while he was down and got the planet up and running, but that's not the direction the writers went with because it didn't highlight the Cherik relationship as well. The writers wanted to focus in on Cherik and so I again repeat that Charles and Erik's relationship is the thesis, the plot, the heart of the show and I can't wait to see more.

#x men #x-men #x-men97 #x men 97 #magneto #professor x #xavier #erik lensherr #charles xavier #cherik

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faithshouseofchaos · 1 month ago

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“Sunshine the Ghost whisperer” Simon ghost Rylie x Sunshine!OC!Reader

Part one of ?

Warnings none

Word count — 1659

Would you want to see a second part?

"Sunshine" was the name that the 414 had affectionately given you. To many of the men on the task force, your presence was a mystery. They couldn't fathom how someone like you had earned a spot among them, particularly Ghost. He was a man of stark contrasts—brash and unyielding, thriving in solitude. For him, the task force was a sanctuary, a place where emotional entanglements were non-existent. Here, he could navigate through challenges without the burdens of vulnerability, relishing the freedom of being hard-edged and unapproachable.

One evening, as the task force gathered after a long day, the atmosphere was filled with a mix of exhaustion and camaraderie. They sat around in a circle, their banter filling the air.

Gaz looked over at you, his curiosity piqued. "Hey, Sunshine," he began, a hint of teasing in his tone, "I've been wondering something about you."

You turned your gaze towards Gaz, a subtle smile playing on your lips.

"And what's that?" you asked, your voice as soft and soothing as a gentle breeze. Gaz chuckled, exchanging a glance with Soap, who sat beside him.

"Well, considering the nature of this task force," Gaz began, "I have to ask, how did someone like you end up here, among us? You're a medic, yeah, but your personality just seems..." His voice trailed off as if searching for the right words.

Soap grinned, leaning in slightly. "Yeah, you're like a ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm. It's kinda refreshing, to be honest." He chuckled, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth.

Soap eyebrows lifted. "Unexpected paths, huh?" He chuckled. "Don't leave us hanging. We're all ears."

Gaz nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, spill the beans, Sunshine. We've got time to kill."

You leaned back, your eyes taking on a thoughtful expression. "Alright, I suppose I can reveal a bit of my story."

Soap and Gaz leaned in, their attention focused on you. The flickering fire cast shadows on their faces, making their expressions even more eager.

"I started in the medical field, working in civilian hospitals. But one day, an opportunity arose through a friend." Your voice was calm, betraying no hint of past turmoil. "The 141 task force was looking for a medic, and my friend thought I'd be a good fit."

Gaz and Soap exchanged glances, surprised by the simplicity of the tale.

"Just like that?" Gaz asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "You were just recommended, and you joined?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, it's not quite as simple as that. I had to go through rigorous testing and training."

Soap leaned forward. "So, you're saying you're a legit badass, even though you look like sunshine and rainbows?" You smiled a hint of mischief in your eyes. "Looks can be deceiving, Soap. I have skills that come in handy in this line of work."

Gaz chuckled, nodding his head. "I'll say. The way you stitch up some of these guys, you'd think you have magic hands." Soap chimed in, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, you've probably seen more body parts than a butcher, and yet, somehow, you're always calm and composed. How do you keep it together?"

You let out a soft laugh. "It's a necessary skill to have in this profession. Panicking won't help anyone. Plus, I've seen my fair share of gory scenes. I've learned to compartmentalize and focus on the task at hand when it counts most."

Gaz nodded approvingly. "That explains why you're always the steady rock in the chaos of a mission."

Soap chimed in, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. "Yeah, but don't you ever freak out? I mean, you see some pretty messed-up stuff, and you just calmly patch us up like it's another day at the office."

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling slightly. "Occasionally, yes, there are moments when I feel the weight of it all. But panicking won't help anyone."

Gaz chuckled. "See, that's what's so amazing about you. You keep your cool, even in the most stressful situations."

Soap leaned in. "Is that why you always seem to know how to calm Ghost down when he's in a mood?"

Your expression softened a hint of knowing in your eyes. "Ah, Ghost. I've learned his cues, his tells."

Soap chuckled. "Yeah, he's a surly bastard most of the time. But when you're around, he seems a bit more...tolerable."

You laughed softly. "I try my best. He's always so guarded, so serious. Someone has to break through that tough exterior."

Gaz chuckled. "And you're the designated 'Ghost whisperer' now?"

You laughed. "Well, someone has to keep him from brooding all the time."

Soap smirked. "Yeah, who else would be able to handle his brooding better than you, a ray of sunshine?"

You shrugged. "He's just misunderstood, I suppose. There's more to him than meets the eye."

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "More than brooding and scowling? I'm surprised."

Soap chuckled. "Maybe you should start a support group for dealing with the grumpy Lieutenant."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'm sure that'd go over well. A support group for dealing with the Lieutenant's bad mood."

Soap snickered. "I can already picture the bumper stickers: 'My friend is a grumpy Lieutenant' and 'I survived a grumpy Lieutenant's mood swing.'

Gaz joined in, chuckling. "And the t-shirts: 'I survived Ghost's glare' and 'Grumpy Lieutenant is my spirit animal.'

You laughed harder, your laughter mingling with Gaz and Soap's. It was a unique moment of lightheartedness amid their dangerous profession.

Soap smirked. "You know, maybe we should start charging for your 'Ghost-Whisperer' services. You could make a killing."

Gaz chuckled. "Yeah, we could make a fortune. 'Grumpy Lieutenant Mood Swing Pass: Buy one, get one free.' People would pay top dollar to avoid his scowls."

You grinned, the corners of your eyes crinkling. "And we could offer additional perks like 'Limited Edition Grumpy Lieutenant Scowl Merchandise' and 'Ghost-Proof Armor for Dealing with His Glares.'"

Soap chimed in, his eyes sparkling with humor. "Definitely. And maybe we could create a special 'Ghost Temper Tantrum Survival Kit,' complete with earplugs, stress balls, and a 'How to Deal with a Grumpy Lieutenant' manual."

You chuckled, leaning back and enjoying the banter. "Don't forget the special 'Ghost Snark Translator' app. Just input his grumpy comments, and it'll provide a friendly, sunshine-approved translation."

Gaz laughed. "And let's not forget the 'Ghost Appreciation Society' merchandise. We could sell badges and T-shirts with his surly face on them as a sign of support."

Soap added, "And for the premium package, we could offer 'One-on-One Therapy Sessions' where you charge people a fortune to listen to Ghost's grumpy rants." You shook your head, your laughter now turning into light giggles. "Oh man, we could make a killing with that. We'll have to start investing in grumpy Lieutenant-themed merchandise immediately." You shook your head, your laughter now turning into light giggles. "Oh man, we could make a killing with that. We'll have to start investing in grumpy Lieutenant-themed merchandise immediately."

While the three of you were laughing you didn’t notice the man in question had walked into the room and had heard your conversation.

The laughter died on your tongue as you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, your eyes landed on the tall, imposing figure of Lieutenant Ghost, glowering at you.

A moment of awkward silence passed before Soap broke into a sly grin. "Ah, speak of the devil. Look who's here, just in time to hear us plotting his grumpy business empire."

Ghost's dark eyes flicked to Soap, his glare becoming even more intense. He wasn't amused by the ongoing banter.

Gaz chuckled nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. "Er, Ghost, we were just having a bit of a laugh about..."

He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without pissing off the Lieutenant further. But you, ever the calm and collected one, took a step forward. "Just a friendly conversation about the benefits of grumpiness, Lieutenant."

Ghost's gaze shifted to you, his glare softening slightly, but only slightly. He stayed silent, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Soap, fearless as ever, decided to chime in again. "Yeah, we were thinking of starting a line of grumpy merchandise. Maybe some 'Ghost Scowl T-shirts' or 'Lt. Grumpface Coffee Mugs.'"

Gaz winced, bracing himself for Ghost's reaction.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, and he huffed silently, his shoulders tensing. He didn’t appreciate the idea of his grumpy persona being turned into a merchandise line.

You stepped closer, your voice gentle but firm. "We're just teasing, Lieutenant. Don't take it too seriously." Ghost's gaze shifted to you again, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he held your gaze, a flicker of something indecipherable passing through his dark eyes.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff and gruff. "I don't find it funny. I don't appreciate my mood being the subject of your mockery."

Soap, ever the jokester, tried to lighten the mood again. "Come on, Lieutenant, lighten up. We're just joking around. It's all love."

Gaz facepalmed internally, wondering when Soap would learn when to stop. Ghost's eyes narrowed further, and he took a step closer to Soap. "I have no patience for your jokes. You'd do well to remember that, Sergeant."

Gaz and Soap exchanged nervous glances, realizing they'd pushed it too far this time. You, sensing the tension escalating, quickly stepped between Ghost and Soap, your presence a calming influence.

You smiled gently at Ghost, trying to soothe his irritated mood. "It was just a harmless conversation, Lieutenant. No harm intended."

Ghost's gaze switched back to you, and he seemed to soften again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He huffed silently, his eyes flicking between you, Soap, and Gaz.

For a moment, he looked like he was contemplating saying something, but then he simply grunted, "Hmph," and turned on his heel, striding out of the room without another word.

#task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf141 x you #cod mw x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost x gender neutral reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you

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thatwavephenomenon · 9 months ago

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The concept of Inquisitor Anders (and Justice) is so special to me actually. Everyone agree that everything the "regular" Inquisitor goes through/accomplishes is already mind-blowing. But for Anders to be the Inquisitor? The stakes would be even more impossible.

Anders thought he was going to die for what he had done, but Hawke spared him. After that he has to go on with no plan whatsoever, as best as he can while on the run as one of the most wanted man in Thedas. The only thing that is clear to him is that he has to keep helping the mage rebellion until he is either caught and killed, or until his Calling. All he has is borrowed time. So even as a fugitive, Anders' story is likely already written and over.

And then the Conclave happens, and Anders not only has his eyes glow blue sometimes, but he now has an occasionally green glowy hand as well.

So here he is, Anders the apostate, Anders the Kirkwall Chantry criminal, who has nothing but with *everything* to prove.

Remember. This is the man that gave everything that he had, everything he was to his cause. He fought for *years* in Kirkwall with his clinic, his manifesto, with the Mages Underground and still things worsened, with barely anyone listening to him until he blew the Chantry up. And now he has to convince everyone that he isn't responsible for the explosion at the Conclave? Right, as if his track record would permit that. How could he possibly be able to close the breach in the sky when he was the one who started the war between the templars and the mages in the first place?

The regular Inquisitor already has trouble proving themselves trustworthy at the beginning of DAI, so imagine it now with Anders. People would literally be out for blood. The Chantry would not only discredit the Inquisition as heretics, it would call for his immediate dissolution/destruction. Anders would also try to help all the refugees just like before in Kirkwall, while being the very reason these people lost so much in the first place this time.

Now on to the advisors and companions. How would Leliana, who also walk the path of violence for her cause, who is pro-mages but also had great faith in Justinia, interact with Anders? Even if Cullen has left the templars, could he and Anders even manage to cooperate after everything? Especially considering that Cullen was Meredith's second and the one who dismantled Anders' Mages Underground? How would Josephine and Anders work together to promote their cause, with how Anders must regard nobility after living in Darktown for years or after watching Kirkwall nobles interact with Hawke?

After investigating what happened in Kirkwall, Cassandra would probably be more than wary of Anders. But at the same time in DAI she is among the first ones to believe that the character must be the Herald of Andraste. I imagine that Cassandra would be particularly conflicted on how to treat Anders because of this.

Varric. Anders was his friend. Anders is the one who set Kirkwall on fire. For all that they know each other, things would probably still be tense between them at first. Varric also followed Hawke to see him rise from having barely anything to his name to becoming the Champion of Kirkwall. What would he think about Anders, a companion of the initial protagonist (or even protagonists, if you take into account DA Awakening), when he's now taking a path that seems to lead him towards becoming so much more? Especially considering that in DAI Varric struggles with how to perceive the Inquisitor, having to juggle between seeing the character as his friend (if you have a good relationship with him) and seeing them as an icon, the Herald of Andraste.

Anders and Vivienne would absolutely despise each other and their snark matches would be the stuff of legends. The only reason those two could even work together is if they agree that closing the breach takes priority over everything else.

I imagine that Anders, Justice and Solas would have some interesting conversations about spirits and the Fade while also butting heads on a lot of things. Both would be convinced that they are the authority on these subjects. But perhaps they would learn to eventually concede on some things with time.

I think Sera would really like Anders for his continued dedication towards helping people and his insistance to give up what he has for others. Sera's fear of magic and Anders absolute pro-mages stance would definitely cause more than one row between them however. Not to mention Justice. Their relationship would be one of the most interesting there in my opinion.

Blackwall would also be another greatly interesting character to watch interact with Inquisitor Anders. Anders would be able to tell that Blackwall is bullshitting about being a Warden from the get-go, because he was one and can sense the taint. Those two would definitely have some interesting debates on justice (and with Justice), or talks about how to go on and do good after having committed an atrocious crime. Blackwall's admiration for the Grey Wardens versus Anders "Oh yeah, I was a Warden once, then I just quit" attitude would also result in some great banters I'm sure.

Anders would say to Iron Bull that he is very different from all the other Qunaris that were in Kirkwall, though I don't know how that conversation would go. Iron Bull would also definitely be afraid of Justice. I can see him adressing the question/problem of Anders being an "abomination" quite directly, because he is not comfortable with spirits/demons that are capable of taking over someone's mind, and Anders is a living proof of that fear. Despite this, I like to imagine that Justice would actually grow to respect the Iron Bull in some parts after hearing the Chargers' stories about him and seeing how protective of them Iron Bull is.

Despite their different upbringings, I think Dorian would somewhat remind Anders of himself when we was younger/before he merged with Justice. If Hawke isn't a mage, I can imagine Anders' relief and joy about finally being able to talk to someone about magic normally and openly. They would have conversations about Tevinter, politics, etc. In DAI, the Inquisitor can inspire Dorian and support him in his fight to change Tevinter. With Anders as the Inquisitor, this aspiration for social changes could be even more relevant.

Cole and Anders/Justice interactions would be another cool thing to see. Justice would recognize Cole as a spirit of Compassion right away. Despite their differences as spirits, I could see Justice becoming quite protective of Cole and defending him against people like Cassandra or Vivienne, having an unfortonate amount of experience being treated as a "demon" or "abomination". Cole would also try to help Anders with his guilt of course.

Discovering that Corypheus is their enemy would be less of a "oh it's him again/oh okay this is the villain" moment and become a lot more personal, with the worry that Anders could fall under his control if he is not strong enough.

Meeting Hawke once again in Skyhold would be An Event for sure, espeeecially if Hawke and Anders were (are?) in a romance. I'm letting everyone imagine how that would go with their own Hawke here.

And The Choice in the Fade, you know the one, would be even more heart-wrenching. Particularly if the Warden is someone that Anders knows, like Nathaniel Howe or even the Hero of Ferelden/Warden-Commander.

Bonus: Anders could also meet Fenris by chance during a mission to eliminate some Venatori.

Anyways. I really like the idea of Inquisitor Anders, yes.

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josphitia · 5 months ago

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Josie's Cow HRT Journey, part 4 - The Endo

It has been a rough few weeks since my interaction with that “therapist.” I withdrew into myself, into reading stories of girls getting their bodily wishes fulfilled through magical means. If I couldn't achieve this in real life, I could at least live it vicariously. Jojer was comforting me best he could; and he bought me prosthetic horns to wear around the house. As nice a gesture as it was, any shifting in their positions just signaled to my brain in flashing neon what it was I lacked.

I found a group online, an old school IRC chat mostly for girls to commiserate on what they felt denied to them. I learned all sorts of new terms, a myriad of words to describe ourselves, that only had one real objective: To pick at our emotional scabs. To promote a bleeding of the heart, a pain that reminded us of what we longed for and convinced ourselves we would never be. We were a commune of depression.

I logged on one day to the sight of a well-trodden series of texts. The same handful of sentences each beginning with the same 3 letter word: Why. “Why can't my body be like hers?” “Why can't I have the right hormones?” “Why can't society let us be who we are?” Etc, etc. The only thing I didn't see was a person who was the closest thing to a friend I had there. I assumed it was just another particularly bad day for her and began to write my own melancholic diatribes to the chat.

But, another day went by. The space was lonelier without her, the one true connection I had made even in a corner of the internet as dour as this. And then another day, and a week. Another week. I began to fear the worst. That she had taken a journey so many of us considered or had even attempted. We had exchanged emails once, for plans that would fall through like so many others. I wanted, needed to know if she was safe. I opened my client and wrote three simple, impossible to misinterpret words: “Are you okay?”

Silence.

*Beep*

“RE: Hey” was the name of the email I received. She was okay! My heart felt the first pangs of relief in weeks. Her message had apologies sprawled throughout, but there was also a sense of contentment in her words. She was excited, she was hopeful, and she soon disclosed the reason why: She had found a new therapist. Not the man who had taken away my very hope for the future, but a woman who actually listened. Who offered genuine advice. A woman who was not a barrier to treatment but rather a guide TO that treatment.

In the final paragraph, as if answering my eager question prophetically, she wrote the therapist’s email. The last thing my friend wrote was yet another apology, but this one for something she was going to do, not a past infraction. She wanted to start her new life without the cumbersomes of her current. That she was performing a purge of her online identity, and that despite our camaraderie, I was being purged as well.

As much as the feeling of abandonment stung, I felt that I had gained something far greater: A second chance at the future I longed for. The future I desperately needed. The future that had already been snatched away from me once. I had hope again.

I emailed the therapist the next morning and stalked my email account for any activity. Finally, after a day at work of checking my phone every minute, I received her reply. While she was not in my state, she would be able to counsel me through a Telehealth appointment. She gave me her days of availability and I chose the soonest one, giving no regard to the fact I would have to leave work early. Like a stubborn bandaid, I needed this to be over quickly and with one decisive action. I would know tomorrow whether I had finally found my path towards happiness or if the waves of my future would crash violently against the shore.

The appointment had started off like so many of my online chats did: The unloading of emotions regarding men who wronged us. While these men had different names and faces, their profession was the same: Therapist, if in name only. My new doctor asked about my previous experiences trying to get onto AnimalHRT and like a flood the emotions rushed forth. When I stopped, she had but one thing to say: “Yeah, that guy sounds like a prick. He's woefully outdated on standards and practices. I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

She understood. A medical professional not only understood the pain I was going through but was sympathetic. She wanted to help me. It was a foreign experience, but one I welcomed wholeheartedly.

“So, tell me about yourself. I need to assess you but I want to stress this is merely a formal process. There are no wrong answers. When did you first feel that you were a cow?”

“I don't know… I learned it was a possibility only recently, but it feels disingenuous to say I only wanted to be a cow a few months ago… I've known I was different from other girls… different from boys… ever since I was a child. I thought it was just because I'm trans. But I don't know if I ever had the thought ‘I’m a cow’ before this year. I can point to a number of habits and signs I've noticed. That I always want something on my head, such as sunglasses, where my horns should be. That shoes have never fit right. That I've been vegan for years… But it feels insulting to cows themselves to say these things make me a cow… I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time…”

“Hey, hey. It's okay. You're not wasting anything, let alone my time. I promise, there are no wrong answers. What you describe is very similar to many girls, and boys, and others, have confided in me. Especially the diet part, you'd be surprised how many Otherkin and/or Therian have diets similar to their species before they start their transition.”

I wiped the liquid growing at either sides of my eyes with my shirt sleeve: “Really?”

“Really. You're normal, Josie. You may not be a normal that people think about every day, but you are doing nothing wrong. You're feeling nothing wrong. You are who you are; and it's my duty, my privilege, to help you realize this and to help you along whatever path your transition takes. I want to help you.”

“Thank you… And, what were those names you used for people like me?”

“Oh, Otherkin and Therian?”

“Yeah”

“They're the umbrella terms used for people who are a nonhuman species either physically, mentally, or spiritually. In the broad strokes, Therian are people who are a species of nonhuman animal. Otherkin are people who are a species of nonhuman animal, or creature, which is usually more mythological. There's a lot of overlap between the two. While many people are one or the other, it's also very common for people to be a mix or blending of the two.”

And again, realization. Like a strike of lightning in the back of my mind: There's words for people like me. Not a derogative or a slur, but actual, genuine medical terms.

“I think I have enough to write your official diagnosis and letter for hormones, Josie.”

“Wait, really?? I don't need to do anything else? I don't need to… prepare for my future…?”

“We are preparing for your future. You've clearly thought about this and like I said, there were no wrong answers. It's not my job to gatekeep but to guide you. I practice informed consent, and you're informed and consenting. I'll begin writing your letter and you should receive it in your email by tomorrow, with a physical copy arriving in about a week’s time. Now, do you have an Endocrinologist lined up?”

“No… I thought it would be premature to do so before knowing how this appointment would go…”

“I understand, I'll send you the information of Endocrinologists that handle AnimalHRT.”

“Thank you so much, I don't know what to say other than thank you… This appointment went so much better than I ever dreamed it could! Thank you!”

“You're welcome, Josie. Now, when would you like to schedule your next appointment?”

_________________________________

“Josie? The doctor will see you now. Right this way.”

I walked through the sterile hallway of the endocrinologist’s office. I was guided into a private room when, before I could sit, a tall woman in a lab coat opened the door. “Hi Miss Josie, it's a pleasure to meet you. We have the letter that your therapist faxed us. It says here you're interested in AnimalHRT? That's no problem. And by the looks of it you've already been on Bovinesterone. How can I help, are you looking into Dragon, or Wolf, or-”

“Uhm! I'm actually not on any AnimalHRT yet… I was hoping to get on Bovinesterone.”

“...Oh! My apologies.”

“No, no, I think you've actually given me the best compliment I've ever received…”

“Heh, okay. Bovinesterone it is. Now I just need to list off the possible effects of this medication. I'm sure you already know, but it's law. Here goes:

Creation and increase of keratin deposits on the top of the skull.

Fusing of the toes and increased keratin production of the feet, as well as realignment of the Fibula, Tibia, and Calcaneus.

Increase in keratin production of the fingernails.

Increase in growth of the tailbone.

Increase in mammary tissue.

Elongation and stretching of the skull, as well as realignment and blunting of the patient’s teeth.

Increase in hair production over the entirety of the body.”

It was as if she was reading off a list of everything I wished was different about my body.

“Do you understand and accept the risks inherent with this medication?”

“Yes, I do!” I said too eagerly.

“Okay. I'll send it into your pharmacy. I'll walk you out.”

_________________________________

I kept a hand on the bag I acquired from the pharmacy, holding it in my lap. I wanted, needed, to safeguard it's trip to my home. I was almost there, to the future that I was awaiting with bated breath.

I ran up the stairs to my apartment and filled a glass of water. In my hands were two small, light blue pills. As I swallowed them eagerly, a single thought repeated in my head: “It's happening!”

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Josie's Cow HRT Journey

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#transgender #transisbeautiful #transgirl #animal hrt #cow hrt #cowstoryhrt #therian #therian hrt #otherkin #otherkin hrt #furry oc #oc #oc story #furry #sfw furry #fursona #creature hrt #josphitia

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antianakin · 1 year ago

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I keep seeing this frustrating post about how Anakin wouldn't have fallen if the Jedi made him a Creche Master because "babies need attachments!" No. Babies need support and love. Anakin would have SUCKED as a Creche Master. Because the Younglings would LEAVE. I have a feeling he would have sabotaged as many as he could get away with to keep them with him. Because he STILL has the flaw, he believes people belong to him. Not to themselves. He MAYBE wouldn't have killed ALL the Younglings. But he would have taken them to be raised as Darksiders and in Sith teachings so is that really better then death?

Sure I giggle about Creche Master Anakin as an AU. But when people start insisting it's the RIGHT PATH... yeah no. Those kids would have been miserable.

I've definitely seen posts about how the Jedi were terrible people for "forcing" Anakin to be a soldier instead of allowing him to be a Creche Master, as if Anakin wasn't saying from DAY ONE that he wanted to be a Jedi because he wanted to be a big hero who came back to free the slaves. That's not the kind of work a Creche Master does and the kind of work a Creche Master does doesn't seem like something Anakin would be too terribly interested in.

He reacts pretty negatively to being handed a teenaged Padawan and tells her not to "slow him down," so I don't really see him being particularly patient with little kids, personally, or happy to just sit around being nurturing and cleaning up messes and providing enrichment and dealing with temper tantrums. He'd HATE IT. He's honestly TERRIBLE as a teacher to Ahsoka, too. His early attempts at bonding with her suck, his idea of helping Ahsoka overcome a massive fuck-up that caused several people to die is to put himself in danger and force her to be the only leader in charge and if she fails, they literally all die, and he offers her zero support in that. He's late to what appears to be an important Jedi test and when she does well, he doesn't praise her at all and instead tells her that the test is inadequate. And of course the training he ends up giving her involves shocking her into unconsciousness in an unsafe environment for hours upon hours. When Ahsoka ultimately decides to leave the Jedi, his pleas for her to come back are all about HIMSELF and he practically accuses her of being an idiot for refusing to stay.

Nothing about his one relationship with a child in his care really ever shows that he'd be GOOD at handling children as his JOB. Or that he'd even WANT to. And like a lot of people have been saying about going into jobs like that in real life or about becoming a parent, this is the kind of thing you really should feel 100% committed to before making that choice.

I don't think Anakin would've intentionally sabotaged the Order by trying to make its children leave. He does obviously somewhat unintentionally encourage a mistrust of the Council and a judgment of the Order with Ahsoka, but he never wants her to leave. Like I said earlier, he actively insists that she has to come back to the Order when she tries to leave and makes her choice all about himself. He gets accusatory and tells her she CAN'T just throw this life away even though she's already said she feels like she can't trust herself right now. Anakin refuses to leave the Order himself, he doesn't really want to because he does want the things that come with it, he just doesn't tend to like Jedi teachings or the limitations that ALSO come with being a Jedi. He wants to have all of the positives of being a Jedi and none of what he'd consider negatives. So even if we pretend Anakin might've been willing to become a creche master of some kind, I don't see him intentionally sabotaging them. I don't think he even realizes he's doing that to Ahsoka at all, he's completely shocked when she runs during the Wrong Jedi arc and when she leaves at the end.

But I do think he'd have a negative impact on the kids, I do think he'd end up possessive of them. I think he'd probably play favorites and be overly harsh when having to deal with discipline or just actively neglectful towards some of them. I think Anakin would be constantly frustrated and annoyed by the kids if they weren't acting the exact way he wanted them to. I think he'd have a hard time trying to connect to them and would desperately want to pass them off onto someone else to deal with the worst problems. The concept of Anakin stealing some of those favorites during Order 66 to raise them as Sith or Inquisitors of some kind is absolutely devastating.

This is also why I giggle at those silly little board books about Darth Vader the father with baby Luke and Leia, but also like holy shit the concept of Luke and Leia being raised by Anakin, especially once he's chosen to be Vader, is HORRIFYING as a concept. It would NOT be this cute sweet little thing, Luke and Leia would be so fucking miserable and they'd probably both turn out really badly as a result of such a terrible upbringing.

I don't think anything in ROTS really indicates he wants kids, either. His reaction to Padme's revelation that she's pregnant doesn't exactly scream excited or happy and he never really shows any interest in the baby or their future as a family the way Padme does. Padme will wax poetic about how she wants to raise the baby on Naboo and Anakin's response is "you look so beautiful." He'll have a nightmare about Padme dying in childbirth and Padme has to literally prompt him to consider whether the baby survived or not. Palpatine gets him to turn on Windu by saying "I can help you save the ONE you love." What he yells at Obi-Wan on Mustafar is "You will not take HER from me" rather than "THEM." When he wakes up from surgery, he ONLY asks about Padme and not whether the baby survived. At no point does he ever genuinely seem to give a shit about the baby at all or show any indication that he WANTS to have kids. He doesn't fantasize about their future together as a family, he isn't brainstorming names with her, he isn't worried about how to raise a baby in secret.

And obviously the desire for children of your own is not the same as the desire to be a teacher, but I feel like the crechemasters are RAISING those kids, they're not just a daycare worker who passes them back to their real parents at the end of the day. So if Anakin doesn't even show any interest in raising his own biological children in canon, I don't see that he'd have any interest in raising the Jedi children. And it certainly wouldn't save him from going dark. It just means he's on planet more often and so probably spends even MORE time with Palpatine which means he might actually become a Sith even SOONER.

Even in the nicest possible AU where Anakin gets raised by the Jedi from a much earlier age and has no real issues with authority or attachments the way he does in canon, and he isn't influenced by Palpatine at all and genuinely does love being a Jedi etc etc, I don't see his personality as being someone who would be satisfied just being a Creche master. I feel like he'd still want something more thrilling than that, something that allowed him to go out and travel and do "bigger" stuff. I think he'd likely be a better teacher in general, he might be fine coming by the Creche once in a while to interact with the kids, and he'd be a lot better with his own padawan, but a Creche master as a career? Eh, I don't see it. Maybe once he starts getting really old and feels like switching things up a bit. We know through High Republic that this is an option the Jedi can take, they can move away from rougher field work and take up slower positions if they feel like they need to for one reason or another. So sure, maybe in the nicest possible AU, Anakin might one day in his twilight years decide to slow down enough to be a Creche master. But that's probably the only way I can see it actually happening.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical

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bereft-of-frogs · 5 months ago

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I'm so glad I have actually stuff to analyze now to defend Indara and I don't have to just keep being like 'um that's not really how narrative storytelling works' and 'I suspect you guys just don't know what to do with reserved female characters who aren't evil' and 'not everyone who isn't a ray of sunshine is a secret Sith lord babes' this is even MORE fun than my reddit crusade over the last few weeks now that I have substance.

anyway, hopping back on the Indara defense train as I have been for a full month, but also talking about her 3 big missteps first:

Mistake #1: not putting her foot down and insisting on going in to talk to the coven alone the first time. Yeah, this was the last moment things could have gone well. I think she was right and going in alone would have looked less intimidating. Also given what she does at the end, she's a pretty strong telepath and wouldn't have had the weak point of Torbin to be exploited. I think if her level head had met Aniseya's level head they could have talked some things out, and the crisis wouldn't have escalated that quickly. There are definitely still some issues - what did Aniseya do to create the twins? why was Koril so afraid of the Jedi finding out? - and things might have come to blows anyway, but I don't think they'd have been as explosive if Indara had had the chance to initially diffuse some of the tension.

Counterpoint: they might have killed her or at least not let her leave actually. If it had JUST been Indara and Aniseya we're talking about, yeah, the fastest solution is a friendly chat between the two of them, I actually think the Jedi would appreciate some of Aniseya's philosophy, they have a nice little cultural exchange and part ways maybe agreeing to disagree on some of the specifics of the Dark vs Light side of the Force, but at least everyone lives. But there's the rest of the coven to consider. Koril particularly. She is DOWN to murder pretty much immediately, as we know from the advisor scene from episode 3, when she's like 'who would miss them?'

Aside: **Book spoilers, I wish tumblr had spoiler tags like Reddit or Discord, don't read this point if you don't want Path of Deceit spoilers** And eep, yeah who WOULD miss them? I sort of jokingly said this after episode 3 like 'lol well it did work for the Path of the Open Hand, that's not that crazy an idea', but now we have the context and oof, they're even MORE off grid than Zallah and Kevmo were. At this point they haven't even contacted Coruscant about finding the coven, right? So while the Council knows the planet they're on, they still think it's uninhabited and evidently the witches are pretty well hidden, they'd just vanish. Jeez, the Council knew the town and precise location of the Path compound and it still took an absurdly long time to figure out what happened after Zallah and Kevmo started missing check-ins, long enough for the Path to escape. I bet they don't check in as much on a peaceful survey mission vs an active investigation too, the four Jedi really could be missing for a long time before anyone realized something was wrong.

But yeah, Koril seems pretty down for murder, so while one Jedi going in alone doesn't look like that much of a threat and might set Aniseya at ease, Koril might have seen it as a weak point available to exploit. Fearing what Indara would report back to the Council about their presence and the twins, Koril might goad the coven into making an attempt on her life, and while Indara is clearly a formidable fighter, she is drastically outnumbered, fighting all the witches alone might have been too much for her. And of course, that makes things so much worse immediately. The leader and the most level head is gone, the Jedi are now grieving and rightfully fear for their lives, tensions explode even earlier. But that's really not much more than an interesting AU idea lol a slight counterpoint though.

Mistake #2: not being the one to go after Torbin when he ran off. This one is just going to come down to clunky writing, I'm sorry. Because there is zero logical reason for her to trust Sol to bring him back. She should have gone herself. Torbin was her responsibility, she's been reticent about how Sol's imbalance was feeding his the whole time, she should have known Sol was never going to deescalate and was only going to drag him further into trouble. But we can sit here arguing over her thought process and blame her but at the end of the day, it was just that the writers needed it to be Sol for the plot and...I don't know, didn't workshop other reasons to divide them like this. But yeah, in universe, there is no reason for it to have been Sol. Things still might have been escalated due to the events inside the fortress and Sol likely sensing Osha's fear when Mae starts the fire, but Indara could (and should) have stopped Torbin's part in it, that was her direct responsibility.

Mistake #3: suggesting the cover up. Yeah this one's not great. I think most of the 'wow Indara did nothing wrong' people are like '.....ok until the cover up'. And like this maybe also is going to get filed under 'clunky writing' but I'm willing to be argued around on that, I just can't quite figure out why they had to lie about the fire to protect Osha's dream of becoming a Jedi? That's the sticking point for me. They're going to have the same arguments with the Council to let her join, I'm not sure what the difference is whether they tell the truth or not.

On the characterization side though, I can also see where it's like....maybe Indara shouldn't have been making decisions at that point because she did just kill at least a couple dozen people with her mind and is probably kind of freaked out. It was an accident, yeah, but I could see being pretty unnerved by what she'd just done and not wanting to reveal that to the Order. I think a big point has been the way each of these characters (on both the Jedi and the coven's side) act out of fear and that being what dooms them, and this is the moment Indara acts out of fear. She's afraid of revealing this frankly kind of frightening telepathic power, she's afraid the Order will blame her as the leader and call into question her ability to lead, or maybe even to have a padawan. I could see in this moment her being like 'well this is technically true and upsets the status quo the least, let's just go with it.' And then gets locked in once Sol tells Osha, so she can't change her mind after she calms down a bit.

ok back to defending her against two things: 1) breaking the spell and killing the coven, 2) her teaching style.

The issue with the conversation around her breaking the spell and killing the coven that I'm having is I think one of 'authorial intent vs what comes through on screen'. Because in the Nerdist interview that confirmed Indara did not intentionally kill the witches, Headland also said that her mistake her was acting out of 'selfish attachment to save her friend' and not worrying about the consequences. And I just...my brain does not make that logical leap. You could maybe argue that if like...a bunch of other things weren't going on. Like the alternative to Indara not breaking the spell is: Kelnacca continues on his puppet rampage and she has to fight him essentially alone (Torbin is knocked out and Sol's tiring) and probably kill him, which could have also killed the witches, she doesn't know that.

I guess if she 100% knew that breaking the spell telepathically would kill the witches and killing Kelnacca physically would not, you could argue she was stuck in a trolley problem and maybe should have just killed Kelnacca, but even then it's like. Eh. So she kills Kelnacca. She's still vastly outnumbered by hostile witches who could just turn their attention to someone else. Maybe they go for Sol next and she has to do the same thing, then Torbin, until she's alone and Koril can re-form from the mist and kill her. (Nerdist interview all but confirmed Koril is not dead.) I think this is where writers get mired in the weeds of attachment, pacifism, and the greater good. Yes, the philosophy of the Jedi asks them to sacrifice possessive attachment to others so they are not fueled by those emotions and they try to find a nonviolent way to resolve conflict first, but this doesn't equal 'you should just lay down and die immediately rather than fight back against someone who's hurting you'.

TWO the teaching style thing. I've seen so many people over the last couple days be like 'wow she's such a shitty teacher' and call her style 'sink or swim' and imply she's letting Torbin drown. And I agree it's not perfect. Seven weeks is a long time to be stuck in a stalemate with your homesick student over whether he understands the grander purpose of your mission. But also I think it makes perfect sense if you consider that she's trying to teach him patience and also not influence his own line of inquiry (...unlike someone else which I'll get to). But first off, this seems like the perfect mission to teach this sort of patience. I'm even hesitant to call it 'sink or swim' which I'd apply more to like, if she brought him into a high-stakes, dangerous environment and was just like 'good luck.' Up until the last 36 hours or so (or less lol we don't know how long the day-night cycle is on this planet, but from when Sol sees the twins to the fire starting is about a day and a half), this was a safe, low-stakes mission. They're essentially doing a mystical ecological survey, on a planet that seems mostly uninhabited and without significant predators or other dangers. Finding the vergence doesn't seem to have any sense of urgency to it. Part of being a Jedi is listening to the Council, even when you have to do something boring or that you don't want to do. You don't really get to choose your assignments, especially when you're an apprentice and are expected to go wherever your master's work takes you. I think it was a fine situation for her to wait out. Yeah, she maybe underestimated how badly Torbin wanted to go home and should have interrogated those emotions earlier but still this is a pretty low stakes mission, I think without the sudden acute pressure of the situation with the coven and Aniseya exploiting that homesickness, they may have found a healthier resolution to those issues.

And, given what she tells Sol about not wanting to give Torbin answers but teach him to seek them for himself, that she might not want to influence his ideas. The masters clearly know what they're looking for is probably a vergence, but Indara might not have wanted to tell Torbin because he's young and inexperienced and then he might start seeing a vergence everywhere, rather than listening to what the Force is really telling them. (This is another thing where like, yeah if they were on Earth in our time with no psychic powers I think it's fair to criticize her for withholding answers that long...but they're psychic space wizards who are supposed to be able to sense things normal people can't, I think some of the pedagogy for that is a little different than what we're used to.) I think Sol was wrong to step in like that, especially considering the outcome, that Torbin does get so fixated on finding the vergence and going home he loses perspective. And I think Indara was right: this wasn't about what Torbin was feeling or needed, this was about what Sol was feeling. It seems like he was done with their stalemate (that exchange around the fire sounded like a conversation that's been had before, and like, not really faulting Sol for that, I would also probably get fed up with a moody teenager) and he thought he knew what Torbin needed better than Indara, so decided to override her and just spill the answer.

I think it's interesting that before Osha even comes into the picture, Indara has already accused Sol of projecting his feelings onto someone else. It does seem like he's feeding into Torbin's anxiety just as much as Torbin's feeding his, I kind of wish they had used that more in the scene where they head off for the fortress, honestly just a couple sequence changes would probably have fixed a bunch of that. (Indara comes and tells them the Council said no, they go over the results of the blood test, Sol says he thinks something is wrong and the girls are in danger, they decide to head off together, would eliminate the nonsensical 'Indara suddenly trusts Sol and Torbin to be alone together and not cause shenanigans' issue.) But yeah, that feels like foreshadowing of how he's projecting his own feelings onto Osha, like his was projecting his own feelings of being imbalanced and restless onto Torbin.

Anyway. Indara was a fine teacher probably, not perfect, but I wouldn't go as far as to say 'she sucks' or even that they were poorly matched. This was just...a long and tiring mission that ended with a literal explosion. Can't wait for the finale! Especially because ack, the 'Indara is the secret Sith' people have not quit on Reddit and there's still like the absolute remotest chance they pull something stupid like a double reverse twist - because for SURE in those early episodes she was being set up to be the 'mean one' vs Sol, and the twist is that she was actually levelheaded and willing to listen and sweet with the twins - and the final shot of the season is a cloaked Sith figured revealed to be Indara. Like there's NO way but...there is the tiniest way so I will not be fully comforted until the finale's out and that theory can be laid to rest. Though I don't think it will be, they could literally show her decaying corpse to definitively prove she's dead and show her spending the 16 years between the flashback and the present cuddling puppies and saving babies and being the lighty-est-side light-sider in the galaxy and I guarantee Reddit would still be like '...ok but here's how that really just proves she's the Sith...'

#star wars #the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #master indara #anyway I love her #it's really fun to go from speculation/theory to more analysis

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